


Of Convenience

by Butterynutjob



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Angst, Cherik - Freeform, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Forced Marriage, Happy Ending, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:50:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2013471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterynutjob/pseuds/Butterynutjob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day when one loses one's job, one's fiance, and one's inheiritance is a pretty bad day. Charles Xavier is out of money and he and his pregnant sister Raven are about to be homeless unless Charles is willing to take drastic actions involving the handsome new German immigrant, Erik Lehnsherr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tagged as "Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings" because this story will eventually contain references to past abuse and some violence, although I don't think it qualifies as graphic violence.

Charles Xavier was having the worst day of his life.

He immediately felt guilty for having this thought, thinking that surely the day his father passed away was worse - but that had happened a lifetime ago, when he was five, and he could barely remember it. He quelled his guilt by telling himself that objectively, a day when one loses one's job, one's fiance, and one's inheiritance is a pretty bad day.

"Charles..." His younger sister Raven didn't know what to say to him; she wasn't good in these kinds of situations. She awkwardly petted his arm for a moment and sighed. "There's no chance Emma would reconsider?"

They were sitting at their favorite bench in Central Park. The January day was overcast, which seemed fitting, to Charles. He sighed, contemplating Raven's question. "I doubt it. I think me losing my teaching position was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. We already had some other - problems." 

"Are there any - _sexual_ problems?" Raven asked, jokingly, making a joke from a television program so old that nobody but her brother would have gotten the reference. It was a completely inappropriate, and therefore very appropriately Raven thing to say. Charles snorted a laugh despite himself. 

"Actually...well, anyway, it's not something we'll have to worry about anymore," Charles said, taking a deep, cleansing breath and then taking another because he didn't feel all that cleansed. His mind kept running in circles, and not the productive kind, the _what-if_ kind. What if he hadn't come out to his mother in the nineties, prompting her to change her will? What if he had taken the position offered to him at Oxford, instead of at Columbia? What if Raven hadn't gotten pregnant 6 months ago by a guy she barely knew?

"I'll get a job," Raven said suddenly. "I have waited tables before, and I can do it again."

Charles felt a rush of tenderness for his little sister wash over him. He pulled her close and kissed the side of her head. "Thank you, but that would be a temporary solution at best, and I would rather see you and your child healthy and happy." Raven moved her hand to her swollen belly then, in an instinctive protective measure. She hadn't been serious about getting a job and they both knew it, but he thought it was very sweet of her to offer.

"We could move back to the mansion in Westchester," Charles suggested to Raven, thoughtfully. They currently shared a very small two-bedroom apartment in Central Park West, but it was costing him a small fortune in rent every month.

"Another temporary solution," Raven pointed out. "We would get kicked out in two months when you turn thirty and are still single."

Charles glumly kicked at the pavement and continued the _what-if_ game in his head. What if Raven had been a legitimate child of his father's? What if his mother hadn't put the stupid clause about being married by the time he was thirty in order to inherit in the will? 

What if he actually had enough money to pay February's rent? Charles realized with a sinking feeling that he shouldn't have been quite so generous on Christmas and baby presents for Raven. He'd been counting on income from the spring semester to pay off his credit card and refill his coffers until his wedding day, but now...

Charles put his head in his hands and moaned, thinking of all the lost deposits for wedding vendors. 

"Charles," Raven said gently. "My shift at Immigrant Relations begins in a few minutes. Are you going to be okay if I go?" Raven volunteered a few hours per week at Immigrant relations, a non-profit immigrant resource center. Charles teased her that it was because she wanted to meet exotic men, but he knew a big part of it was that she wanted to travel. She had not been able to accompany him on a lot of the travelling he had done with his family when he was younger, as Raven had been treated as an annoying afterthought by his mother. She was the illegitimate child of Charles' father Brian Xavier and a former maid who died when Raven was only eight years old. Having no other family, she moved in to the Xavier family mansion, even though Brian Xavier had passed away years before. If it hadn't been for the combination of Charles' insistence and Sharon Xavier's alcoholism, Raven might have grown up in a foster home. 

"Charles?" Raven asked softly, her eyes big and concerned. 

Charles dragged his thoughts back to the present. "Sorry," he said crisply. "I think I just need a good night's sleep. I'm having trouble getting my thoughts in order."

Raven nodded. "I'll be done by 8:00pm," she promised. "I'll even play chess with you if you want." 

Charles had to laugh at that. Raven hated chess. "Wow, you must really be worried about me," he chuckled, even as he blinked back a tear or two. 

**

Normally Charles liked his apartment a lot, even though it was small, because it was cozy and in a great location and it was perfect for him and Raven. Emma had hardly ever visited, but that was fine with him; Raven had struck a little too close to home with her joke about 'sexual problems.' Charles could have counted on both hands how many times he and Emma had had sex during their eighteen-month relationship. She was a beautiful woman, and he told her that often, but heat and passion were not her way. Everything about Emma was cool, almost cold. It had seemed to work out well, though, as Charles wasn't particularly interested in sex either after the first few times. In that they were well-matched. 

Charles walked in to his tiny apartment and flopped on his tiny couch. The pleasantly overcast day haded faded into a gloomy evening, but Charles didn't bother turning on any lights. He thought about his last conversation with Emma, just hours ago, staring up at the ceiling.

"Oh sugar, are you sure they won't hire you back?" She'd said, checking her lipstick. 

"Yes. It's a matter of funding," Charles explained glumly. His promising tenure-track position in genetics had been downgraded far past 'adjunct professor' down to non-existant. 

"So what does that mean for us?" She asked Charles directly. He explained about money being tight, and the rent problem, and could he and Raven stay with her for a couple months until after the wedding?

"Charles. I do have sympathy for you, but...I really can't do that. There just isn't enough room here." Emma had a two-bedroom apartment twice the size of Charles and Raven's. Charles mouth fell open a little bit as Emma continued. "I have been thinking about something else over the past few days, anyway...we really aren't perfect for each other, are we?"

"Of course we are, don't be ridiculous," Charles responded quickly, reflexively.

Emma looked at him searchingly. She could read him very well, had always been able to do that. "You know that's not true."

"See, how well you know me," he continued weakly.

"Charles, if Raven wasn't pregnant, you wouldn't give a shit about your inheritance, would you?"

Charles was stunned into speechlessness. "So I should be ashamed that I'm not greedy?" he said slowly, not bothering to deny her accusation. 

"Of course not," she said smoothly. "That's very noble, Charles; very _good_. You'll probably give most of it away to charity or some wonderful cause and will never, ever, rock any boats." Uncharacteristically, Emma's eyes shone with some wetness for a moment, which disappeared nearly as quickly as it had appeared. 

"Emma..." Charles couldn't put his finger on it, but he was no slouch at reading people, either. "What are you not telling me?"

She took a breath and then responded, in a measured tone, "Don't you think we deserve more?"

 _So this is about money,_ Charles thought. He sighed. "Emma, we can revisit the pre-nup if it's really that important to you. I thought the one we had was satisfactory, but..."

"This is not about money," Emma snapped. "I have money."

Charles was surprised to realize that he believed her, but - then what _was_ the problem?  
"I - I don't want want to lose you," he said, a little desperately, when the silence had dragged on and the air had become icy. 

"You don't want to lose Raven," she said softly, and Charles knew she was right, but losing Emma just made everything else so complicated. 

"I met someone," she said calmly, after a long silence. Charles looked at her in surprise. "You - Oh." Even knowing her as he did, he was surprised, then started to feel - affronted. "Have you been cheating on me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, would you really care if I was?" 

Charles wasn't sure how to reply to that, because he either didn't know or didn't like the answer, and was afraid to find out which it was. 

"I have not 'cheated' on you," she said, the word sounding bitter in her mouth. "But I have met someone, and he makes me feel - amazing. Like I'm melting. He took me for a ride on his motorcycle. Can you imagine me riding a motorcycle?" She smiled radiantly, an expression Charles had never seen on her face before. Emma's smiles were always calculated to match the intensity of the situation, never too quick or too slow to leave her face. But now - she started talking about this Canadian guy named Logan quickly and breathlessly and with a light in her eyes Charles had definitely never seen before, possibly not in anyone's eyes, ever.

Charles stared at his now-former fiance like he no longer knew her. He left, then, without saying good-bye, not even sure if he was angry or hurt or jealous, but he couldn't get the joyful expression on her face out of his head. That was right before he texted Raven to meet him at their bench.

**

It was Angel who pointed out the hot German immigrant to Raven that evening. "His name's Erik," Angel stage-whsipered to Raven. The man was seated nearby, reading a book, seeming completely unruffled by the multi-lingual cacophany of the Immigrant Relations Center. Angel lowered her voice. "He's looking for a way to stay. He can't go back to Germany because some Russian guy is after him."

"Well, at least we have that in common," Raven said dryly. The man Raven had been seeing six months ago was Russian, and although his interest in her had cooled significantly after they'd had sex a few times, it had come to his attention via social media that Raven was pregnant and he was desperately trying to talk to her about it. 

Angel looked at her. "You haven't talked to Azazel about this yet?" 

Raven cleared her throat and pretended she hadn't heard the question. "So, about Erik - why is there someone after him? Did he do something?"

Angel shrugged. "I don't know. Didn't ask. But, he's got a wad of cash for anyone who has a permanent way for him to stay in the U.S."

"How much of a wad?" Raven asked.

Angel grinned. "Negotiation is out of the scope of my involvement," she said, smacking her gum. "Also - you're not his type."

Raven snorted. "Have you seen me? I'm not anyone's type right now. That doesn't mean I wouldn't propose marriage if the size of his wad is impressive enough, if you know what I mean."

Angel grinned even bigger. "Did you know that some governments keep track of things like sexual orientation?"

"No, but I can't say I'm surp-" Raven broke off. "He's gay?" She looked over at the broodingly handsome man. "Wow, I don't see that at all."

"I know right?" Angel seems weirdly gleeful about it. "But he is definitely, apparently documentably gay, because they check this stuff out on social media and stuff. Anyway, he's looking for - "

"A man to marry," Raven breathed. Same-sex marriage was legal in New York. SAME-SEX MARRIAGE WAS LEGAL IN NEW YORK!

"I have to make a phone call," Raven said hurriedly to Angel. "Don't let that man get married in the next five minutes!"


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet

Charles woke up on his couch in a dark living room. He shook off some rather unpleasant dreams that involved him being in a cage of some kind while naked men paraded around him. 

Despite the disturbing dreams, sleep had done his mind some good, and he found himself methodically sorting through potential life options. He could salvage the wedding and inheritance and put a roof over Raven's head before she had her baby if he found someone else to marry within the month. That shouldn't be too hard; he was relatively attractive and stood to inherit over three billion. It's too bad the only women he knew and trusted, Raven and his friend Moira, were already both pregnant. And one was married and one was his sister. 

Before Charles' brain could despair anew, he got a text from Raven. 

PLEASE COME ASAP

Charles gasped and was on his feet before he thought to respond. _The baby, oh God, it's too soon,_ he thought in a panic as he frantically stuffed his feet into his shoes and grabbed his coat. As he took the stairs down two at a time, he risked his life by texting back. 

ON MY WAY WHAT HAPPENED

He burst out of the downstairs lobby and onto the street when his phone rang. Raven.

"Raven? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Charles. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm fine, the baby's fine."

Charles put the arm he had just raised into the air to hail a cab down. "Oh. Well, thank you for that; I just about had a heart attack! What is it? Should I still come?"

"Yes," Raven said quickly. "I'm fine, but yes, you should still come."

Charles disconnected the call and decided to walk instead of taking a cab to the immigrant center. He really needed to be careful with his finances for a while.

**

By the time he arrived, it was almost 8:00pm and the end of Raven's volunteer shift, and he had reached another mental desperation point, turning The Problem over in his mind. He could advertise for a future wife and be swamped by applicants, or not taken seriously at all. He didn't know if a background check was even enough to vet a future wife, because surely three billion dollars would tempt someone to actions which they had never engaged in before. Of course he would have a pre-nup, but a determined thief could siphon away millions before--

An extremely handsome man in a black coat and gray scarf standing just outside the Immigrant Center caught his eye for a moment and Charles caught his breath, his train of thought completely derailed. He looked away quickly as he opened the door, but his eyes snuck back for one more look before he disappeared inside. The man gave him the briefest of nods, nothing more than an acknowledgement of eye contact. 

_Raven,_ he reminded himself. He saw her sitting at the desk, tapping her nails. 

"Charles, I met someone," She told him with a brilliant smile. 

He winced, as those were the same words he had heard from Emma earlier that day. "The last time you said that, it lead to - well - " he gestured towards her stomach helplessly. 

She shook her head impatiently. "I never said that about Azazel, and anyway, that's not what I meant. I met someone for you."

"A woman?" Charles laughed despite himself. "You know, I have been racking my brain--"

"No, better," Raven whispered. She pointed and indicated the man Charles had passed on the way in, who was still outside, though some of his back was visible through the window.

Charles frowned. "Raven, I don't understand."

"He needs to stay in the country," Raven explained, slowly. "He's willing to pay someone to marry him. You need to get married. Do I need to spell it all out?"

"I - " Charles knew his mouth was hanging open as his brain processed what Raven said. Of course he knew gay marriage was legal in New York as of last year, but since he had been engaged to Emma, it hadn't he hadn't seemed to affect him much. The ramifications came flooding into his mind now. When his mother added the horrific "must be married by age 30 to inherit" clause to to her will in 1992, she couldn't have imagined that gay marriage would be possible - his potential homosexuality was the reason she'd had the will modified to begin with. But now--

"Raven, I could marry a man," he gasped. He actually felt a little dizzy. 

"Gald you finally caught up," she said with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk. Raven had know almost as long as he had known that he preferred men sexually, but since women were not entirely unpalatable to him--not to mention that until recently marrying a woman was the only way he could keep his inheritance--he had very determinedly pursued only women, not counting a few hook-ups between relationships. He had never been unfaithful to Emma, unless letting one's thoughts wander was considered unfaithful. 

Raven grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him towards the door. "That's a man who needs to get married," she said pointedly. Charles could see the back of the neck where it went into his scarf and even just that looked sexy, but he found himself shaking his head. 

"Raven, I don't know him," he said, paralyzed with doubt. "Surely - it should be - someone I know?"

"Who do you know?" She countered. "Hank?" 

It was a testament to his desperation that Charles actually turned the idea over in his mind. Hank McCoy was a fellow professor, a good friend of Charles', and certainly trustworthy, although he was straight as an arrow. "Well..."

Raven physically pushed him towards the door with a snort. "Fine, if you want to marry Hank, I may release my dibs. But at least talk to this guy, okay? I made him hang out and wait for you."

Charles looked at Raven, startled. "You already - He's waiting to talk to me?" He stopped fighting her pushing, mostly out of shock. 

"His name is Erik--" was the last thing Raven said before Charles burst into the cold night air next to the man. 

Charles inhaled deeply and smiled wide as he faced the stranger. The man turned his shoulders to face him, and his sheer physical charisma felt like a tangible attack on Charles. "I'm Charles Xavier," he said finally, with a rush of exhaled breath, and extended his hand.

Erik took his hand and shook it firmly, not breaking eye contact. "Erik Lehnsherr." Erik had eyes that looked like green granite, cool and assessing. 

Charles wasn't sure how long he stood there gaping at the man before Erik raised one eyebrow in question. "Ahh...would you like to get some coffee?" Charles finally said, gesturing across the street where a multi-level coffeeshop offered shelter from the cold. Erik inclined his head in agreement and indicated to Charles to lead the way as he followed him across the street. 

Charles decided on tea, after all, and Erik had black coffee. "That's what I would have guessed," Charles said with his best charming smile as they sat down at a table on the third level up, a floor that was mostly deserted. "I would have guessed you take your coffee black."

"You would have guessed correctly," Erik said, in a smooth baritone voice with a slight accent. 

An awkward moment passed as Charles thought desperately of something else he could say. Erik's eyes felt like they were boring a hole into him and it took away his composure. 

"Raven filled me in on your situation," Erik finally said, calmly. 

Charles let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Oh, she did?" 

Erik finally broke eye contact and looked out the window. "I need a legitimate reason to stay in this country," he said after a moment. Charles waited, thinking more of an explanation might be forthcoming, but Erik didn't say anything else. 

Charles fidgeted with his tea. "Ah, well, it just occurred to me today that marrying a man was an option," he admitted ruefully. Erik's eyes shot up to his, seeming - puzzled? The expession was there a second before it was gone. 

Charles took a sip of tea and decided he need to stop pussyfooting around this conversation. "I am speaking with you mostly to indulge my sister," he said, looking at his cup. "I need to get married within the next six weeks, and I can't imagine doing that with someone I've just met." He looked up now into Erik's eyes again. 

"How disappointing," Erik said. "A romantic." A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

Charles frowned; something about Erik's comment bothered him. "Hardly. I'm not under any delusions that I'm going to fall in love with anyone in the next month, I just can't take the risk of losing my fortune to someone I don't know or trust." He sighed. "Even with a pre-nup, even with a background check, we could get fleeced."

"Who is we?" Erik asked.

Charles thought it was obvious. "We? Raven and I. And her baby, soon enough." 

"Her husband can't take care of her?" 

Charles shook his head. "She's not married. The baby's father is not in the picture anymore." He looked up at Erik, and thought about what a shame it was that he had to pass on any kind of marriage, even a sham marriage, with such a beautiful man. He gave Erik a sad smile and thought it was probably time to wrap up this conversation. As he opened his mouth to speak, Erik interrupted. 

"I can pay." He said it softly, looking at the table and slowly raising his eyes to meet Charles'.

"Oh no, that's not--"

"Raven told me you lost your job," Erik continued. "I know what homelessness is like. I don't want you to have to experience that." 

Charles licked his lips. "Well, we do have a place to stay, although--"

"I don't."

Charles and Erik locked eyes for a moment.

"Why do you need to be in this country?' Charles finally asked. 

Erik looked out the window. "I'd rather not say."

Charles nodded, leaning back. "I understand. I do understand, my friend. I don't trust you either, and that's why--"

Erik reached his hand out and put it over Charles'. His eyes were pleading. "I trust you. I need this, Charles. I won't take a penny of your inheritance and I can support you until you get it. I just ask that you don't ask about my past."

Time seemed to slow down for Charles as he battled himself. One part of him believed and trusted Erik without hesitation, and another was screaming that he should not be so blind, Erik was hiding something and that something was going to bite him in the ass one day. He tried desperately not to factor in the warmth and feel of Erik's hand on his.

 _He had Raven's approval._ This concept suddenly leapt out in from of the other arguments shooting back and forth in his head. For some reason, Raven wanted Charles to marry Erik. And while Charles had to constantly battle himself over who was trustworthy and who wasn't, Raven never trusted anyone - but she trusted this man. 

Charles pulled his hand back and rubbed his forehead. "Ahhh...dammit. Okay."

"Okay? Is that yes?" 

Charles couldn't help smiling and joking a bit. "Yes, darling, I will marry you." 

Erik suddenly gave him a wide grin with far too many teeth. "Yes. _Yes._ Thank you, my friend."

Charles rubbed a hand across his face. "I hope I don't regret this."

Erik reached up and put a hand on the back of Charles' neck. The intimacy of the contact felt like an electrical shock to Charles' system. "You won't," Erik promised.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legal advice, moving day, and the courthouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the kudos! They are very motivating :)

Dr. Hank McCoy took off his his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "I'm sorry, Charles; how did you meet this man again?" Hank was a law professor at Columbia University in addition to being Charles' only male friend.

"At the Immigration Resource center, where Raven volunteers," Charles explained patiently. His friend Hank seemed to be having trouble with the basics of the idea that Charles marrying Erik would restore Charles' estate to him. _No,_ Charles corrected himself, _that wasn't quite right._ Hank understood what they were proposing, but -

"It's fraud," Hank said, sighing and putting his glasses back on. He looked at Charles. "I'm not going to tell you what to do, but condsidering what's at stake here - specifically, your inheritance...look, marrying someone you just met, who intends to _pay_ you for the favor, someone who will be signing an air-tight pre-nup that he gets nothing when or if the marriage dissolves...not many judges are going to look favorably on you in that situation." Hank shook his head. "As your acting attorney, Charles, I can't advise you to proceed with this union.  
Not to mention, most people who know you believe you're straight," he added.

Charles sputtered. "What has that got to do with anything?"

"Well...not much, probably," Hank admitted. "Probably the case will be lost just based on the rest of the facts alone."

Charles felt miserable. He hated that he was causing his friend distress, but Raven..."Hank," said Charles earnestly, quietly. "You know the position I'm in. Is there anything else I can do?"

Hank considered this for a moment. "Can you fall in love?"

"Can I fall--well, that is just stupid," Charles exclaimed. "There are plenty of reasons for getting married that are not just for 'love'. In any union, there are financial considerations. Historically, there are arranged marriages for a variety of reasons - would this be much different from that?"

To his surprise, Hank looked thoughtful. "Well, you may have a point. Not a very good one, but it's a starting point. Ultimately it's going to be up to the immigration agent. It can take up to a year for that interview usually, but for a case with such, uh, 'financial considerations,' as yours, I'll bet you will be fast-tracked and they will come talk to you and view your living situation in the next couple months, probably."

"View my - living situation?" Charles asked slowly. 

"Well, yeah." Hank pushed up his glasses. "You're not going to be married to someone you're not living with, are you?" 

Charles studiously avoided eye contact with Hank. "I thought perhaps him getting his mail at mine would be adequate."

"Oh man." Hank shook his head. "He should move-in with you as soon as possible. And, you should both display affection for one another that corroborates a story of you two having a sudden, intense love affair. Reasonable pre-nup - someone with your fortune could hardly be expected to forego it completely. And, if you take any money from him, it should be cash, and I don't want to hear about it." Hank cleared his throat and looked down, guiltily. "That's my professional opinion, anyway."

Charles felt a little beam of hope returning. "This could work, then, if we do that?" 

Hank sighed. "Probably not. But if you sell the narrative that you both fell madly in love with each other, and had to marry right away...it's your best bet, anyway."

"I could kiss you, Hank," Charles said, jumping out of his seat.

"Uh, that's not necessary," Hank said hastily. "And, I will have to bill you, so that this conversation falls under attorney-client priviledge."

"Not a problem, as long as I can wait a few months to pay it," Charles said with a grin. 

"Yeah, okay," Hank said with a sigh. "I'll get you a pre-nup by tomorrow morning."

Charles called Raven right after he left Hank's office. "Start packing," he told her. "We're moving to the mansion tomorrow."

Next, Charles sent a text message to Erik. **Lawyer says we need to move in together**

The response was almost instantaneous. **Okay. Tell me where and when to be.**

Charles texted his current address and added, **Will you help me move**?

Again, the response was fast: **Of course :)**

Charles had to smirk. His new fiance used emoticons; who would have guessed?

**

The next day, Charles showed up at Hank's office early and true to his word, the pre-nup was there and ready for him. "Is he moving into your tiny apartment with you?" Hank asked curiously. 

"Well, actually, the three of us are moving to my family's estate in Westchester," Charles explained. "Today, in fact."

Hank frowned. "It's vacant? Why weren't you living there before now?" 

"Well, I had a job here in the city until a couple days ago," Charles explained. "And my step-brother had been living there - I found out a couple months ago that he moved out. Nothing in my mother's will prohibits my living there, although it could be a grey area..."

Hank waved that worry away. "That should be the least of your concerns, actually; New York law has a homestead provision."

Charles wasn't sure what that meant, but he did know what 'least of your concerns' meant, and he took that to heart. He was about to leave when Hank said, "Do you want any help moving?" 

Charles was surprised. "We could sure use you if you want to help!" 

Hank gave one of his shy grins. "Yeah, I think I would. Good exercise. And I'm curious to meet this guy who has made you throw all caution to the wind."

Charles and Hank shared a cab to Charles' apartment. When they arrived, Hank groaned. "Third floor walkup?" 

Charles grinned. "It could be worse - there are six floors in this building!"

He bounded upstairs, two at a time, feeling unaccountably good about life. Erik was already there, packing boxes with Raven. Charles thought he'd better relay the rest of his legal advice to Erik so they could portray a believeable relationship sooner rather than later. 

"Erik - a word, please?"

Erik rose gracefully and followed Charles into his bedroom. As he closed the door behind Erik, Charles noticed that the gray sweatpants and clingy white undershirt Erik was wearing made him look divine. 

He started when Erik stood very close to him. "Yes, Charles?" He murmured. 

Charles took a step back, feeling overwhelmed, and turned away. "Well, my friend Hank will be helping us move today as well and - Oh! I forgot to tell you sooner. Thank you for being here!" Charles suddenly turned as he realized he hadn't said thank you for the offer of free labor. 

Erik gave a small smile. "My pleasure," he said.

"Um, anyway, Hank is a law professor and he acts as my attorney. He thinks we should act like we're in love," Charles plowed ahead despite feeling the blush rising on his face. 

Erik nodded. "Makes sense."

Charles was surprised that he took it so calmly, when Charles felt like his heart was beating out of his chest. "So, uh, you - know how to do that?" He said awkwardly. 

Erik smile got infinitessimally bigger. "I do. I've been in love before," he said.

"You have?" Charles said, a question in his eyes. 

Charles was looking into Erik's eyes, curious to hear an elaboration, when it was like someone shut off the light in Erik's eyes. "I'll be convincing," he said coolly. He smiled tightly at Charles and went back into the living room. 

Charles took a second to breathe and think about what just happened. What had bothered Erik? 

"Oh," he said out loud in his empty room as he realized it was bringing up Erik's past that caused Erik to shut down. Well, he had told Charles not to ask about that, so for the time being at least Charles decided he would honor that request.

**

Erik was true to his word - he was convincing about looking like he was in love, or at least infatuated, with Charles. It took the four of them (Erik, Hank, Charles and Raven) about three hours to get the moving van packed and Erik took every opportunity to look at Charles and smile, or wink. When he took a break, he came to stand near Charles and even pulled him in to kiss him on the temple once. 

Charles could barely handle it. He found Erik stunningly, incredibly attractive, and as the morning went on he worked up a nice sheen of sweat, even in the cold January weather. Charles didn't talk to him much because he found himself uncharacteristically tongue-tied around the gorgeous German, but he hardly took his eyes off the man. 

"Wow, you guys are being pretty convincing," Raven muttered to him at one point. "I could cut the sexual tension with a knife."

Charles didn't know what to say to that. Raven surely knew Charles well enough to know he was not acting, but Charles suspected Erik _was_ acting, although he didn't want to pump Raven for her opinion on that at this very moment. Fortunately Erik was convincing enough that when Hank left for the day (he was not able to accompany them to unload in Westchester), he made an encouraging comment to Charles and Raven.

"You didn't properly explain the nature of your relationship with Erik yesterday," he commented, and grinned. "Maybe this will work out."

Charles and Raven exchanged O-mouths when Hank left. 

"You managed to fool Hank," Raven said, with a grin. "Which is impressive, considering you have to practically hit him over the head to make him notice human interaction."

Raven didn't have to explain that - she'd spent at least two years dropping big hints for Hank that he'd never seemed to pick up on. 

"Looks like everything's out," Erik said, coming out of the building, towards Raven and Charles with a big grin. "Ready to go?"

Charles swallowed and nodded. Did he have to be fake-marrying someone so delicious?

**

After stopping for a quick lunch, they arrived at the Xavier mansion in the early afternoon. Charles had a key - he'd never not had a key - and the three of them stepped inside, trepidaciously. Inside was a dusty mess, a shrine to fashion trends of the early 1970's. 

"Good thing we're all unemployed," Charles said with a smile. "This is going to take a lot of work."

Erik shot him a quick glance but said nothing. In fact, he hadn't said much for whole trip up to Westchester, leaving Raven and Charles to laugh and reminisce about some of their days at the mansion - the good days, that is, which were almost as plentiful as the bad. 

Charles gave the Erik a grin. "Shall we pick out bedrooms? There are at least fifteen, if memory serves."

Erik nodded and barely looked at him. Charles felt rebuked and realized he wouldn't have to pump Raven for her opinion on whether or not Erik had been _really_ flirting with him, as Hank had thought; now that there was no audience to convince, Erik's playful affection was gone, and it was painfully obvious to Charles that his crush was one-sided.

Ultimately it was decided that Erik's room should be close to Charles', so Erik claimed the room immediately across the hall from the master suite that Charles picked. Charles picked his room because he liked the fact that there was adjoining study which had a cozy fireplace and two comfy chairs and a chessboard already in it. Erik's room was just a box, with one window, but without even a bathroom.

"Wouldn't you rather have a bigger room?" Charles asked, puzzled. There was a much larger room, on a corner with windows and a bathroom, just another fifteen feet down the hall.

Erik had shrugged. "I don't have much to put in it. It's fine." Besides a couple suitcases of clothes, Erik only had some machining equipment that Charles desperately wanted to ask about but didn't dare, at the risk of being shut down like he was the time Erik mentioned being in love before. Erik seemed only to say exactly what was required, and nothing more. Charles wished, much of the time, that he had a way to see inside Erik's head. The German man never came across as unfriendly - but he might have toed the line a bit.

**  
They went to the courthouse to officially get married two weeks after they moved to the mansion. Erik had signed the pre-nuptual agreement without hesitation; in fact, he only gave it the most cursory of glances before signing. Raven and Angel came as witnesses. Charles had asked Hank, but he begged off due to the "potential appearance of a conflict of interest," as he put it. Raven rolled her eyes when he said that. 

Their tiny courthouse wedding couldn't have been more different from the extravagant wedding Charles had planned to have with Emma. He told himself that the loss of his dream wedding (and the deposits he lost with it) was the reason for the lump in his throat - not because his future husband, the most gorgeous man he had ever seen, only ever displayed interest in Charles when they were in public or in some manner on display. 

But fortunately the courthouse was public, and Erik grinned at Charles and took his hand as they walked up to the counter to get their license and meet the officiant. They had both agreed to dress up, a little, for the sake of appearances, which meant Erik was wearing a gray blazer over a white v-neck T-shirt and black slacks. Charles knew he looked good, too, in a blue jacket and tie over jeans, and his vanity was rewarded by Erik quite obviously checking him out. He wanted to pretend it was real, and even leaned his back against Erik's front as they were waiting in line. Erik rubbed his chin against the side of Charles head in response, and to all observers they appeared madly in love. 

"You guys are so cute!" Angel declared. "This could not have worked out better!" From the way she beamed, Charles could tell that Raven had not filled her friend in on the actual situation, which was really for the best. The fewer people who knew this wedding was a sham, the better. In fact, he wished he could forget...

It was their turn. They handed over the completed license forms with their identification as the girls giggled and bounced next to them. 

"Will you be exchanging any rings, or vows?" The officiant asked, not unkindly but with a glance towards the long line of happy couples waiting behind them. 

Charles was about to say no when Erik spoke. "Rings, yes," he said, clearing his throat. He handed a small metal circle to Charles with a wink. Charles gazed at it in fascination. The ring looked like - polished steel, not mass-produced, as there was a seam, but as if it had been smoothed by hand with a deliberate attention to detail...

The officant was chanting something about the laws of New York when Charles looked up Erik with a gasp. "Erik, did you make this?" 

Erik smiled at Charles, seeming genuinely pleased. "I did. I made two, so ours would match." He nodded to the one in Charles hand. "Technically, that one's for me."

"...May I continue?" asked the officiant.

They got to the part of the ritual where they exchange rings. "With this ring, I thee wed," Charles murmured after the officiant. It should have felt more wrong than it did. The ring fit so perfectly that Charles had to swallow back tears. This brusque man he was marrying, who seemed so calculating - how could Charles have missed this consideration from him, the time he must have spent making these?

"...Vows?" said the officiant, the impatience starting to creep into her voice. 

"We've already exchanged vows, thank you," Charles improvised, turning to look at the woman with a brilliant smile.

"Fine. By the power vested in me..."

Charles realized what was coming. Oh God, they were going to kiss. He should have thought about this sooner. They should have talked about it. He couldn't stop looking up at Erik and grinning like a fool. 

"...great state of New York, I now pronounce you..."

Dear Lord, was that a tear running down his cheek?

The officiant paused, and for the first time, smiled. "You may now kiss your husband."

Erik inclined his head and pressed a passionate kiss to Charles' mouth, while grasping the back of his neck with one hand and holding the small of his back with the other. Charles opened his lips before he could stop himself and a little moan escaped his mouth as their tongues slid past each other. He wrapped his arms around the taller man and felt like he was holding on for dear life as Erik gently ended the kiss. Charles' eyes fluttered open to see Erik gazing at him with an amused fondness. "Okay?" Erik whispered with a smile. Charles nodded, not trusting his voice. 

Most of the couples in line behind them burst into applause as they pulled apart, and Charles ducked his head a bit, his cheeks flaming. Raven and Angel were both crying, which confused Charles a bit - he didn't know Raven was such an accomplished actress. 

Charles felt like he was floating. Part of his brain was trying to ratonalize what just happened, to keep his hopes in check - wait, what hopes, what was he hoping for? - but part of his soul was singing because he had never kissed a man like that - well, he'd never had a kiss like that, period. Maybe the other shoe would come crashing down later, but for now he wanted to enjoy the high.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding night

For the first few weeks of living at the mansion, pretty much all they did was clean. Charles and Raven worked on the massive interior, while Erik took it upon himself to do most of the overgrown gardening and yard work. Raven had never really been one for housework before, but pregnancy had imbued her with a desire to make a clean and comfortable home, and Charles certainly was not going to waste that impetus. 

Charles had a secret hope that his relationship with Erik would change a bit after they got married, after that amazing kiss at the courthouse, but as soon as they got in the car to go home that day Erik was back to being his cool cordial self. 

_At least I'm coming home to a clean house on my wedding night,_ Charles thought, a little bitterly. The sun was just setting as they pulled up at the mansion and Charles was resolved to ignore its beauty until Raven said, "Oh! Look at the sunset! Isn't it beautiful?" 

Both men turned their heads. Charles had to squint at the flaming sun bathing the landscape in golden hues. And if it brought a few tears to his eyes, well, sometimes beauty hurt. Charles bit his lip and huffed to himself as he thought about how true that statement could be. He turned to go inside and saw Erik looking at him with a undeniably sad expression, mouth open as if he was about to say something. Charles looked back at him with a question in his eyebrows and Erik shut his mouth and shook his head once.

_He pities me,_ Charles thought. He didn't know why Erik would pity him, but he couldn't think of another reason for that expression. 

Raven plopped on the couch with a big sigh as soon as they were inside. "Oh, I have been waiting for this all day. TV and putting my feet up. Heaven!" She smiled up at Charles and Erik. "You guys wanna watch Netflix? I'm on the third season of How I Met Your Mother. It's really funny." 

"I'll give it a shot," Erik said easily, sitting down next to Raven. 

"Great, you can rub my feet," Raven said with a grin, swinging her legs into Erik's lap. 

"Raven!" Charles gasped. 

Erik chuckled. "It's fine, I don't mind," he said, reaching for Raven's feet. He started to say something else and then thought better of it. 

Charles felt his face get hot and he couldn't even say why. "I'll be in my study," he muttered and stalked off. 

In the study adjoining his bedroom, Charles poured himself a Scotch and paced. He was in a terrible mood, and he couldn't even say for sure why. The laughter he heard faintly from the living room was not helping. He needed something to distract his mind. He had a build-up of energy that he needed to expell. He wanted to get out of the house, but nowhere nearby seemed appealing.

Finally he decided on a run. Normally, he was not a runner. He hated running, in fact. But it seemed like something that his body wanted to do right now and there would still be enough light left in the sky now that the disgustingly beautiful sunset had faded. He changed his clothes and went out the front door quickly, so he wouldn't have to explain anything to Erik and Raven.

"Going for a run, see you soon," he called as he went out the front door. There was a path that wound around the premises - Charles believed it was about two miles. He stooped to tie his shoes more firmly and that's when he saw the front door to the mansion open. 

"It's been a while since I've had a good run," Erik said, walking towards him. "Mind if I join you?"

Charles most emphatically did not want Erik to join him on his run, but he couldn't think of a way to say that which wasn't horribly rude. "I'm rubbish at running," he finally said, straightening up from tying his shoes. "I'll probably hold you back."

Erik shrugged and stretched his arms a bit. He hadn't changed his clothes from the courthouse, Charles noted, except to remove the blazer. 

"Suit yourself," Charles shrugged and started jogging. For the first five minutes he felt amazing, and thought, _why don't I do this more often?_ The next five minutes were harder. By the time he had been running fifteen minutes, his heart was pounding and he started to feel dizzy. "I have to stop," he gasped. 

Erik stopped, too. He was sweating lightly. _This practically kills me, and it only makes him sexier,_ Charles thought. _Figures._

Erik looked at Charles with concern. "You okay?" 

Charles was bent over, panting, his hand on his legs just above his knees. "No, I'm bloody well not ok," he snapped. "I just got married today, and the first thing my _husband_ does when we walk in the door is put his hands on my _pregnant sister_." Charles regretted the words the instant they were out of his mouth. He sounded like a jealous, petulant child, and he hated himself for it. 

Erik was taken aback. "Charles, I - I'm sorry. I honestly didn't know that would bother you. I have no designs on your sister. I just know how hard pregnancy is on a woman's feet."

Charles looked at Erik and in a flash of insight he realized that Erik knew this from experience, had been close to a woman who was pregnant. So, he'd had a wife, and a child. 

"Are you married?" Charles asked suddenly, directing, keeping his eyes on Erik's face.

Erik looked surprsed for a moment, then grinned. "Yes. You were there, remember?"

Charles brushed aside this attempt at levity. "I mean, before. Do you have a wife?"

Erik's face darkened. "I told you, I won't discuss my past."

"And I've done my best to honor that. But if you are married to someone else, then what we did today is moot," Charles replied, levelly. 

They locked eyes for a few moments. Finally Erik looked away. "I was married once," he said. "Before today. But that was over a long time ago."

Charles wanted to know so much more, but he held his tongue. For some reason it hurt Erik to say even that much, which is another thing Charles wanted to ask about. 

"I think I'm going to head back," Charles said finally. He gave Erik a lopsided smile. "Looks like I overestimated my running prowess." 

Erik smiled back, the tension from a moment before forgotten. "I still have some unresolved energy, myself. See you inside?" Erik had started to jog away before he'd finished speaking. 

Charles nodded and took a moment to admire Erik's departing backside. 

**

After his first run in what had probably been years, if he was being honest with himself, the shower felt amazing. Charles' mind of course turned to Erik, as it usually did. He thought about not just the way Erik looked, which was fantasy fodder enough, but he also found himself trying to create a narrative that explained why Erik was so hot and cold to him. The revelation that he'd had a wife was pretty significant, Charles thought. 

Charles exited the shower and towelled off, still lost in thought. _Maybe he feels guilty about wanting me because he's still committed to his wife,_ Charles thought. It was a pleasant idea, but it didn't quite fit the facts, and Charles knew Occam's razor applied here: the simplest explanation was that Erik was a straight man who didn't know how to play gay, and overdid it when he tried. Charles thought it was ironic that he himself was a gay man who didn't know how to play straight - though God knows, he'd tried. 

As he dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, he frowned and questioned his own mental declaration of irony. He poured himself a scotch in the same glass as earlier and sat down in the study. Was that irony? He'd have to--

Charles was startled out of his thoughts by realizing that Erik was standing in the doorway of the study and the hall, looking at him. "Oh! Hello."

"Do you play?" Erik nodded in the direction of the chess board that was in front of Charles. 

"I do, in fact, I love it," Charles said with delight. "Do you?"

Erik nodded. "I should warn you, I'm very good at it," He said, trying not to say it with a smile.

"Well, I don't know if I can handle being bested by you twice in one evening," Charles replied easily, smiling, thinking about the run earlier. Alcohol and the run had relaxed him and his tongue, and he felt much less wound-up by Erik than he had - well, ever before.

Erik glanced down the hall and seemed to make a decision. "I've got to shower, but I'd love to play after that, if you are up for it," he said to Charles.

"Of course!" Charles smiled at him brightly. "I'll be here."

Charles quickly downed the rest of his scotch and poured himself another. He tried to quash any expectations, but he was really looking forward to playing chess with Erik.

**

Erik had a lot on his mind as they drove home from the courthouse. Charles' reaction to the rings was gratifying, if a little more exuberant than he'd expected - he had spent some time making them, if only because he liked working with metal. But the kiss--he would have sworn that was real. Erik had kissed plenty of men in the past, and he'd thought to shock Charles by kissing him so thoroughly, in a place where he couldn't possibly object, thinking that would probably be his only opportunity to kiss Charles. But Charles' reaction--

Erik looked over at Charles as they got out of the car and pulled up at the mansion. Raven wanted them to look at the sunset, but Erik looked at Charles. Even with his brow furrowed against the sunlight, Charles was beautiful, his pale skin and freckles highlighted by the afternoon sunlight, blue eyes gazing into the sun even as a tear appeared. When Charles bit his lip, Erik ached for a moment, wishing things were different, wondering if maybe they could be. Charles turned and looked at him with slightly raised eyebrows and Erik realized he'd been staring. He shook his head brusquely, embarassed. 

Later, when he was showering after his run, Erik realized that Charles' reaction about him rubbing Raven's feet was not unreasonable - the man loved his sister dearly and felt very protective of her, and really he had only just met Erik. Also, he reflected, it didn't really change anything that Charles knew he'd been married before - Magda had died almost fifteen years ago. They'd been kids, married far too young, back when the slightest breeze gave Erik an erection, back before he realized he wasn't really attracted to women. Charles hadn't asked about Magda's pregnancy, and Erik would make sure he didn't, or he'd lie about it. Erik hated lying with a passion but if it kept Charles and Raven safer he would do it, if necessary.

He was looking forward to playing chess with Charles. Underneath that flustered exterior, he suspected Charles had a fine mind and was possibly a little more attracted to men than he thought he was. It hadn't escaped Erik's notice that Charles spent a lot of time looking at him, even when they weren't putting on a show for anyone. 

Erik tried to think of a reason he should not let himself be admired by Charles and nothing came to mind. He had few enough pleasures in his life, and now going to gay bars and meeting men for casual sex was no longer a possibility. Even if his marriage was not real, Erik took his promise to Charles seriously, that he would not regret marrying Erik. That meant Erik couldn't do anything that would put Charles at risk of not getting his inheritance, which meant, quite possibly, abstinence--if Charles couldn't be...persuaded. 

Erik put on purple boxer briefs and a tight white T-shirt and went across the hall. He grinned at Charles, who smiled back reflexively, but his eyes got big as he took in the way Erik was dressed. "May I?" Erik asked pleasantly, indicating the decanter of scotch. Without waiting for a response, he walked over the the rolling bar and poured himself three fingers. He could feel Charles eyes on his ass as he did so, and turned around slowly, so as not to embarass the poor man. 

"Yes, please, help yourself," Charles said, finally finding his voice. 

Erik felt a little triumphant. A truly straight man would have commented immediately on what Erik was wearing - after all, it was so clingy as to be almost indecent. He felt like he'd caught Charles until younger man said, dryly, "Looks like you've made yourself at home."

Hm. Well. That was ambiguous. "Isn't this my home?" he asked, sitting across from Charles. 

Charles smiled at him, tiredly. "Of course. But since it's my room, the first move is mine." 

Erik smiled slightly as Charles moved a pawn. They played the game in silence for a few minutes until Charles said, "I'm sorry I lost my temper earlier." He was looking at the chessboard, not at Erik. 

"There's no need to apologize," Erik said, wondering if Charles felt he was owed an apology too. 

"I'd like us to be friends," Charles continued, looking up at Erik now. Erik struggled to keep his face still. The friend talk. Of course Charles just wanted to be friends, he was still pretending to himself that he was a straight man. 

"Of course we can be friends," Erik said calmly. 

Charles nodded and closed his eyes. He leaned back. He'd had several drinks, and it occurred to Erik how exhausted Charles looked. Not just from the run. 

"Maybe it's silly that I would even say that," Charles continued, "It's just that everything with you is - complicated. I don't have many friends, and I would like if you and I could be - comfortable, with each other. I will try not to ask questions about your past, it's just that sometimes I'm not even aware I'm doing it, honestly," and he looked at Erik with such an expression of misery that Erik's breath caught in his throat. Charles made his next move on the chessboard and just sat, staring morosely at the board.

Erik suddenly felt like a huge asshole. He'd viewed Charles as a spoiled rich kid from the moment they'd walked into the mansion, and hadn't really thought to consider the stress it put on Charles that he had just lost his job and his fiance and had a pregnant sister to care for. And instead of being understanding, Erik had come in here trying to taunt him, possibly seduce him, and to get him to admit something he clearly was not ready for. 

Erik swallowed. "I haven't been - as understanding of your...predicament as I could have been," Erik said haltingly. He moved a chess piece. "I do want to be friends. I'm curious about you. What was it like, growing up here?"

**

After three chess games - all three of which he lost - and another drink, Charles was feeling much better about life. He had found a way to talk to Erik, to be comfortable with him, even if it was a very one-sided conversation; he had basically told Erik his whole life story in the past three hours. Erik, for his part, listened and asked appropriate follow-up questions; he was sympathetic and enthusiastic in all the right places. They'd talked about Emma, and what she was like and the wedding they had planned to have; about his work with genetics and his dreams of starting his own academy one day. 

When both men had yawned one too many times for decency's sake, Erik stood up and finished his scotch. "I'm going to turn in," he said. As he walked by Charles on the way out, he reached over to give him a brief squeeze on the shoulder. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Charles called over his shoulder to the departing man. He deliberately did _not_ check out his ass this time, but he still felt the warmth of his hand on his shoulder.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday Charles!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may find it helpful to envision the redhead in the bar (Ariel) to be played by Felicia Day

It was too beautiful a day to stay inside, a rare day for March, the sky covered in fluffy white clouds from the recent rains. Erik carried the pieces of his current project out to the garden and found that he wasn't the only one who felt that way about the day.

"Good morning, Erik," Charles said pleasantly. He was sitting in a patio chair wearing a sweater and sunglasses, reading a book, cup of tea nearby. 

"Good morning," Erik replied. "I was planning to work here; am I going to bother you?"

"Not at all," Charles said; in fact, he sounded delighted. "I welcome the company."

Erik nodded and started to set-up. 

The few weeks after their day at the courthouse - it was hard for Erik to think of it as their wedding, for some reason - had flown by. Erik and Charles played a lot of chess and talked about everything under the sun (except Erik's past) only to find they disagreed about most of it. They were both frequently recruited by an increasingly irritable Raven to help her prepare the baby's room, but neither of them felt particularly put-upon. In fact, it was one of the happiest times Erik could remember, but his life until that point hadn't been exactly a picnic.

"What are you making?" Charles asked. 

Erik had several pine boards, a drill, and pieces of wrought iron that he had previously prepared with his machining equipment. "A bookshelf," he replied, drilling a hole. Charles waited until he was done before speaking again.

"There are plenty of bookshelves in the mansion," Charles said reasonably.

Erik shot him an amused glance. "That's not the point. The point is making it. I like to work with my hands."

"Usually you just work with metal," Charles observed. 

_He's perceptive,_ Erik thought. He didn't remember talking about his crafts with Charles, but perhaps he had seen some of the metal sculptures Erik had made, animals made from welded scraps of nails, nuts and bolts. "Yes," Erik acknowledged. "I'm actually trying to recreate a bookshelf I remember from my childhood."

Erik realized what he'd said and stiffened, shooting a look at Charles, expecting a coy follow-up question about his childhood, but Charles didn't seem to take special note of his comment. 

"You know..." Charles said, "It's my birthday tomorrow."

"Is it?" Erik turned to look at Charles. "That would be the big three-oh then, right?" 

Charles grinned and nodded. 

Erik went to hammer a peg into the hole he had drilled. "Well, what are we doing to celebrate?"

He saw Charles shrug out of the corner of his eye. "Usually Raven drags me somewhere, or god forbid, tries to bake a cake."

Erik chuckled. He had been on the unfortunate receiving end of some of Raven's baking recently as she indulged her nesting instinct.

"But, I actually think she has forgotten," Charles continued thoughtfully. "She's been awfully distracted."

Erik nodded, and readied a second peg for hammering. "Well, is there something you'd like to do?"

Charles considered. "I think I'd like to have sex." 

Erik missed the peg completely and hammered his thumb. " _Scheisse!_ "

"Oh God!" Charles sat up straight and took his sunglasses off. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see what you were doing. I could have timed that better. Are you okay?" 

Erik was gritting his teeth against the pain, "It's fine, it will pass. Were you -" he looked over at Charles. "Was that a joke?" What Charles had said had hurt Erik, a little, actually, because he heard the unspoken _with a woman_ after Charles' words. He pushed the feeling down. 

"I'll get you some ice," Charles said hastily. He left to do that.

Erik pondered what Charles said again. Surely he couldn't have been propositioning Erik?

Charles returned with the ice in a plastic baggie, hurried and apologetic. "I am so sorry, my friend, I feel just terrible," he said as he approached Erik and firmly took his hand to look at the hurt thumb. "Skin's not broken," he murmured and put the baggie of ice over the thumb. He looked up at Erik. "Better?"

Erik was not used to being mothered, and he didn't know quite how to react, so he said nothing. That was apparently not the right thing to do because Charles peered at him anxiously. "You're not saying anything, are you all right?"

"Yes," Erik said. "Yes, I'm fine, I just...what you said..." 

"Oh God," Charles exclaimed. "I didn't mean - I was joking - well..." He chuckled and looked down, absently stroking Erik's hand. "I do miss sex. But I certainly didn't mean to put you on the spot," he added hastily. "It's not -"

"It's understandable," Erik said, finally feeling like he'd gotten his footing in the conversation. "I miss sex, too. Umm--" Erik started to continue but stopped himself. So much for finding his footing. He wished he'd stopped himself sooner, because Charles was looking at him expectantly. 

"What?" Charles asked, his eyes big and blue. 

"Well, since it's your birthday..." Erik could hardly believe he was going to say what he did next. "Do you know what an escort service is?"

Charles face went ashen. "Oh, God, no," he said immediately. Erik could tell he he was rejecting the concept, not denying knowledge of it. It also firmed Erik's resolve not to ever tell Charles what he had spent six months doing in 1997 in Berlin. 

"But..." Charles rubbed his chin and gazed into the distance for a moment. "Maybe we could pick up a woman who's not a professional." He turned to look at Erik. 

A woman. Confirmation of his fears. Of course. Erik felt a huge disappointment swell in him but he pushed it down. Sex had not been part of the bargain when he agreed to marry Charles so he had no right to expect it now, especially as Charles was making it clear that he preferred women. He did want Charles to be happy, so if Charles wanted a woman for his thirtieth birthday, Erik wouldn't get in the way. Even though it made his stomach twist unpleasantly.

Something percolated through his awareness, though, fighting through his many conflcted thoughts. "Did you say - 'we'?"

"Well, yes," Charles said slowly. "We're a married couple; I don't want people to think I'm cheating on you!"

Erik still felt very confused, like Charles had some assumptions he did not share. "But--you want--to share a woman?"

Charles was blushing furiously, but he nodded. 

Erik wasn't embarassed, but he had to think about this for a moment. It made a lot of sense that Charles would want this; he clearly preferred women, but Erik knew he was attracted to Erik as well--even if Charles didn't seem to acknowledge that. What Erik wasn't sure about was if _he_ could do it. He simply wasn't attracted to women, but he didn't want to ruin Charles' fantasy by telling him that. And--he honestly wasn't sure if the reality of Charles having sex with a woman in front of him would make him feel aroused or jealous. He realized Charles was looking at him expectantly, barely breathing. 

"Okay," he heard himself say. 

"Really?" Charles said to him, in a huskier tone than usual. Erik looked at him and saw the dilation of Charles' pupils, the red high in his cheeks, the tip of a tongue in the corner of his mouth... _Mein Gott,_ Erik thought, _How could I deny this beautiful man anything?_

"Really," he said with a smile. 

**

Charles woke up the next morning feeling terribly excited. Since Erik didn't want to have sex with him, the next best thing would be watching Erik have sex. He could enjoy watching Erik have the kind of sex Erik really wanted, sex with a woman, Charles thought. And maybe...maybe Charles could get involved somehow...

_It was these kind of thoughts that led to me wanking off three times last night,_ Charles thought. That, and the fact that Erik had not come by his study for their usual evening chess game. Charles peered at the time on his phone and decided he did have time for another wank before breakfast. 

After he showered, he went to the kitchen for breakfast with a spring in his step. Raven was already there. "Happy Birthday!" She exclaimed to him, and he winced when he saw that she was making pancakes. He grinned at her and kissed her on the cheek. 

"Good morning, sister dear," he said brightly. "Have you seen my husband yet this morning?"

"Your husband, huh?" Raven looked at him knowingly. 

"Well, that's what he is," Charles replied, knowing full well he wouldn't dare speak so possessively of Erik in the man's presence. "He's taking me out tonight, you know," he added smugly. 

"Ohh, I see," Raven said, only a little patronizingly. "Where are you going?"

"Just out," He shrugged, feeling shy about sharing with Raven their plan for the evening. He had in fact spent some time googling potential hook-up venues last night (in between googling other things) and had selected an upscale bar in Yonkers whose Yelp reviews indicated it had a thirty-something clientele. "Oh, we might get a hotel room," he added as an afterthought. 

Not that he'd spent any time thinking about it. 

Raven's eyebrows went up to the ceiling. "Really," she said thoughtfully. 

Charles suddenly felt like he was being inconsiderate to Raven. "Is that ok?" he said to her anxiously. "I didn't mean to leave you out of our plans, I just..."

Raven waved away his words. "Nah, don't worry about me. I'm only halfway through season seven of How I Met Your Mother, I will have plenty to do," she joked. 

Erik entered the kitchen then, his demeanor the opposite of Charles' perky perspective. He grunted an acknowledgement when Raven kissed his cheek. "Coffee?" he asked hopefully. 

"I'll get it!" Charles jumped up. 

"Danke, Schatz," Erik murmured at Charles when he brought the mug. He took a big sip and sighed contentedly, resting his eyes for a few more moments before he opened them to see Charles smiling at him brightly. He tiredly smiled back, though his eyes were slits. "What?" he said to Charles.

Charles shook his head and lowered his eyes, still smiling. "I'm excited about tonight, that's all," he said. Erik chuckled.

"Right, birthday sex," he said.

Raven spun around mid pancake flip. "What did you say?" The pancake stuck to the ceiling. 

Charles burst out laughing and Erik couldn't help laughing along. 

**

Charles wore his blue blazer again, but skipped the tie. Erik looked divine in a gray t-shirt and brown bomber jacket. When the two of them walked into the bar, Charles saw more than one woman take note and he hid a pleased smile. He and Erik approached the bar and ordered drinks, then he turned his back to the bar, resting his elbows on it. He scanned the room. "Is this the strangest thing you ever done?" he whispered to Erik. 

Erik had seated himself on a stool. He seemed amused by Charles' energy. "No," he said with a smile. "The strangest thing I ever did was marry a man I had just met."

Charles grinned at Erik, realizing too late that he had technically broken The Rule, but Erik didn't seem to hold it against him. 

"Soo...how do we do this?" Charles' nervous energy was starting to turn to just plain nervousness. 

"How do we pick up a woman?" Erik asked. "You're asking me?"

Charles turned his head to look at Erik appraisingly. Erik had just enough facial stubble to look devastating. "Right, what am I thinking - they probably flock to you," he said. 

Erik laughed hard at that, but didn't deny it. He saw a blond woman in a suit texting in the corner. "Her," he nudged Charles. "She's waiting for her friends." 

Charles suddenly thought this was a very bad plan. The woman was attractive enough, but he could not envision having the nerve to walk over there and start a conversation with her. "God, how do people do this," he gasped. 

Erik looked at him, and then looked at the woman. "Be right back," he said. 

Charles watched with jaw dropped as Erik approached the woman. He couldn't hear what was said, but Erik spoke to her with a smile, she laughed, and then shook her head with a smile. Erik smiled back and walked back over to Charles. 

"Got shot down," he said calmly, sitting down again and picking up his drink. 

Charles was in awe. "Bloody hell! How did you do that?" 

Erik looked at Charles with mild surprise. "Don't be that impressed! You heard me when I told you she declined my invitation, right?"

"That's the impressive part!" Charles exclaimed. "I would be mortified."

Erik shrugged, with a little smirk. "There is a bit of a trick to it," he admitted. 

"Teach me, O Master," Charles intoned. 

"Is that really in my best interests?" Erik asked him, through narrowed eyes, smiling, rubbing his ginger stubble thoughtfully. 

_He's flirting with me,_ Charles realized, feeling giddy. 

"I swear I won't abuse the power," he said, looking at Erik hopefully. "Just this one time."

Erik seemed to be still considering, but was also still smiling. "Okay, then. First - finish your drink, and have another. Preferably a shot of some kind."

Charles nodded eagerly and waved down the bartender. "Four shots of tequila," he ordered. 

Erik's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't comment. "Next is the hard bit," he warned.

Charles tossed back one of his shots of tequila as it arrived and shook his head out. "Okay! Ready for the hard bit."

"You can't care about the outcome of your conversation." 

Charles thought about that. "Hence, the alcohol," he concluded, holding another shot aloft. 

Erik grinned wide. "Exactly. Last, but not least, be direct. Polite, of course, but if she looks like someone you want to fuck, after you say hello, say: 'you look like someone I'd like to fuck'."

"You look like someone I'd like to fuck," Charles repeated slowly, eyes never leaving Erik's. 

Erik raised one eyebrow at Charles - acknowledgement? or thank you? "Exactly," he said. He picked up one of the shots of tequila and downed it himself. It was a little stronger than he'd been expecting, so he coughed a little and wiped the back of his hand against his mouth. "For tonight, you might want to say 'we'." he advised.

Charles listened to Erik's advice earnestly and immediately discarded it. That probably only worked for drop-dead gorgeous German men with a jawline the gods would envy. But, he did have a point about the alcohol, Charles allowed. He scanned the room again and a redhead caught his eye. "I think..." he decided to act before he thought much more about it and walked over to the table where the girl sat reading a book.

"Excuse me," he said, "Are you reading a book in a bar?"

The girl looked up at him. "Yes, I am?" she said with a hesitant smile. She had long red hair a vaugely awkward sense about her, like she was more used to animals or books than people. 

Charles pulled up a chair and sat down. "Doesn't that send a mixed message?" 

"You came in with a man, and now you are hitting on a woman," she pointed out. "Doesn't _that_ send a mixed message?" She looked at him calmly, waiting for a response.

Charles blinked at her and slowly smiled. "I'm Charles Xavier," he said. 

"Ariel," she said. "Yes, like the mermaid, but no, I don't sing." 

"Seems like you have these kinds of conversations a lot," Charles observed. 

She shrugged. "I guess so. I like to read in bars."

Charles looked at the girl again, and thought he would give Erik's advice a shot after all. "That man," he indicated Erik, "is my husband, and we are out tonight because we've found that our relationship is lacking a certain - feminine energy. Could I interest you in a menage a trois?"

Charles felt inordinately proud of himself for the way in which that came out. He smiled and waited for his rejection. 

"Oh, wow," she breathed, with big eyes, looking back and forth between himself and Erik. "That was, like, amazing. Was it hard to say that?"

Charles felt a little taken aback by her response. "Actually, not as hard as I'd thought," he admitted. 

"He's really good-looking," she whispered to Charles. 

"Yes," Charles turned to gaze at Erik, who was looking back at him with a question in his eyes. "He is. Great body, too."

"Mmm, I can see that," she agreed. "Okay. Do you live nearby?"

Charles couldn't believe his ears. "You - what? Oh! Yes. Well, no, but we were planning to get a hotel room?"

"Okay." She smiled at him again. "You have pretty eyes." 

"I - thank you." Charles could barely make his jaw work. "I'll just go - tell him, shall I?" Ariel smiled and nodded. 

Charles dazedly made his way back to Erik at the bar. Erik looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "That went well, I take it?" he said lightly. 

"Ah - yes. She wants to go with us. I told her we'd get a hotel room." Charles was happy to see there was one more shot of tequila left, and he tossed it back. He leaned next to Erik and looked back to Ariel, who was again reading her book. "She's sort of geeky and sweet and just adorable."

"Adorable," said Erik dryly. "I just want to put her in doll clothes and braid her hair."

"Really, Erik," Charles chastized his husband mildly. "Are you not attracted to her?"

Erik looked at Charles. "Are _you_ attracted to her?"

Charles turned back to look at the redheaded girl he'd found so charming. "I think so?"

Erik said nothing, until eventually Charles turned to face him. Erik was looking at him, looking at every part of his face separately, eyes travelling up to his hair. "Oh, I should fix this for you," he murmured, bringing his arms up to Charles' hair and taming some imagined slight. Charles really had no idea what he thought he was fixing, but he very much enjoyed the proximity of the man, the scent of him, the warmth...

He would have closed his eyes but he didn't want to lose sight of Erik's face, as Erik had the slightest frown of concentration wrinkling his brow and the tip of his tongue was just visible in his partially open mouth. He looked so adorably sexy that it was only through a mighty effort that Charles prevented himself from kissing the man right there. 

"Your hair," said Erik, "Will not stay put."

Charles grinned and tossed his hair, upsetting whatever Erik had been trying to accomplish. "Maybe, but it's never been a problem, because it always looks good," he replied. 

Erik raised his eyebrows and looked him in the eye. Their faces were less than a foot apart. "I didn't know I'd pledged my life to such an arrogant bastard," he murmured with a smirk.

"Pledged your life? There is such a thing as divorce, you know," Charles replied without thinking.

"Not me to me, there isn't," Erik said seriously. 

Charles felt like the rest of the bar had melted away and there was nothing in the universe except for himself and Erik. He swallowed. 

"I didn't intend for marrying me to be a life sentence," he whispered. 

Erik chuckled, a low throaty sound. "A life sentence? Like a prison? No, Schatz," Erik said softly, putting his hand on Charles' cheek. "Never that." Erik very slowly moved towards Charles and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

Charles returned the kiss, but immediately started to pull away guiltily. "You don't have to--"

Erik pulled back, a little more abruptly than he intended. "Don't have to? Do you think I don't want this?"

Charles chased his kiss again, even as he spoke. "I know you like women," he said. "So I've found a woman for us." He stroked Erik's facial hair, feeling like every last inhibition had left him. "So you can have sex." Now he looked up at Erik. "You missed having sex, you said so."

Erik looked confounded. "Charles! I said I missed sex, but I don't miss women! I thought _you_ missed women!" 

"No," breathed Charles, "No, no, no."

Erik closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his forehead to Charles. "Let me be perfectly clear," he said. "I like cock. I only want cock. Specifically, your cock."

Charles felt like his heart had just about exploded. Erik was gay? Erik was gay! He dove in for a sloppy kiss, desperately wanting all the kisses he'd not been getting for the past six weeks, wanting to make-up for it all right at that moment.

He felt Erik chuckling against his mouth. "Schatz, please, I need to take care of the tab," Erik whispered. 

Charles nodded and blinked. He was drunker than he wanted to be. "Hotel?" He said to Erik hopefully after he had dealt with the bartender.

"Sure," Erik said easily. He helped Charles outside the bar. Ariel waved cheerfully as they walked out. 

There were cabs waiting, so they fortunately didn't have to wait. "Nearest hotel," Erik said as they climbed in, before turning his attention to Charles.

"Best Western," Charles choked out as Erik's teeth found his neck. "I researched it," he explained to Erik, just before his mouth was taken over by Erik's. 

"Very good," Erik murmured, pulling Charles onto his lap. Charles felt the evidence of his arousal and gasped. How was _that_ ever going to be dealt with?

The hotel was very close and the cabbie was understanding. "You kids be safe," he winked at them as he drove away. 

Charles was too drunk to do more than sway and make-out, so Erik took charge of checking in. 

When they got up to the room, Charles gleefully collapsed on the bed, dragging Erik with him. 

"We're kissing," he giggled. "Finally kissing."

Erik pulled back and looked at Charles. His eyes were barely open and he had a smile. Erik forced his raging libido to calm down, recognizing that Charles was too drunk to do this right now. But oh, how he wanted to!

Charles frowned a bit with his eyes still closed. "Erik, what's wrong?"

Erik kissed him on his forehead. "Let's wait til morning," he suggested, even though his hands had a mind of their own and wanted to touch Charles everywhere. 

Charles made a very unhappy humming sound. Even drunk, Erik hated to disappoint him. "Tell you what," he whispered, pressing kisses to Charles' face and throat and neck, "I'm going to undress you for bed, and I'm going to kiss you in lots of places, and then I'm going to hold you against me," _even if I die of blue balls,_ he added mentally. 

Charles smiled dreamily. "Sounds lovely."

Erik rolled Charles to get his blazer off, and then lifted his sweater over his head. He could not help kissing some of the freckles he saw on Charles' alabaster skin, but his real test was in taking off Charles' pants - his penis was about three-quarters erect, rolling against his belly, and the scent of it nearly drove Erik mad with desire. It took every ounce of his self-control to refrain from kissing it.

He disrobed quickly and pulled the covers up over both of them, and snuggled up to Charles' back. Charles was almost completely asleep now, but he wiggled happily against Erik's erection. 

_Mein Gott, give me the strength to get through this night,_ he pleaded with whichever deity might be listening. He breathed in the scent of Charles' hair and wondered how he could have thought yesterday that he was the happiest he'd ever been.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexytimes, Serious conversations, and the immigration officer stops by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains references to past abuse, emotional hurt/anguish

The first thing of which Charles became aware was very bright light. The second was how much he desperately needed water. As he tried to convince himself to move and deal with these terrible situations, he became aware of a third stimulus: that his back was plastered to another body by sleep sweat. Charles very carefully rolled out of Erik's grip and the man grunted and turned over, still quite asleep. Charles carefully sat up - _small headache, but nothing too bad_ \- he noted, and stood up to draw the blinds and thus halt the offensive sunlight streaming in the window. He then got hmself a glass of water from the tap sat down on the bed, gulping it gratefully, as he looked over at Erik. 

Despite feeling less than ideal, Charles suspected he'd had a very good time last night. He was pretty sure he remembered all of it - didn't he?

He looked over at Erik and ran his fingers through the sleeping man's hair, then let his hand trail down to Erik's chest and pectoral muscles. Erik finally stirred a bit, rolling onto his back. Charles let his hand wander farther down Erik's chest, just exploring, he told himself, hoping Erik would wake.

Erik's eyes opened just a crack as he squinted at Charles. He reached for the younger man and pulled him into the crook of his arm, kissing the top of his head. He seemed perfectly content to snuggle, but Charles wasn't. He started kissing his way down Erik's torso - which prompted a vauge recollection of Erik doing something similar to him last night. When he was bumped in the cheek by an erect phallus sooner than he thought he would be, he couldn't help but push the sheet down to take a look. He almost prayed thanks to the Lord before thinking that might be considered blasphemous as he saw Erik's huge cock for the first time. It was beautiful and slightly intimidating. He stroked the side of it admiringly. 

Erik made a noise and Charles turned to see that he was being watched. Erik still had narrowed eyes, but he was clearly more awake now and had a slight smile on his lips. Not breaking eye contact, Charles kissed the head of that beautiful penis under his hand, kissing all around the head, and then opening his mouth to get a taste. 

"You are pretty bold for a virgin," Erik remarked in a rusty voice.

Charles removed his mouth from Erik's cock long enough to say "I'm not a virgin," then re-doubled his efforts, moving his mouth around the head, his tongue reaching for more shaft.

Erik groaned and stretched his head back, entangling his fingers in Charles' hair. "I meant with men," he clarified, almost grunting it out. 

Now Charles wrapped his hand around the base to aid what his mouth was doing. "So did I." 

Charles pulled himself on top of Erik so he was straddling the man, sitting up straight, both erect penises separated only by a thin bedsheet. 

Erik frowned slightly at the loss of Charles' warm mouth on his cock and looked up at his husband. "Good morning," Charles said with a mischeivious grin. He had stopped touching Erik's penis but he was running his fingers over Erik's chest and sparse chest hair. 

Erik shook his head and chuckled. "So that was just a wake-up call?"

Charles nodded and smiled. "I was hoping you might be able to fill me in on what happened last night."

"You don't remember?"

"Well, I think I do..."

Erik considered. "Well, the girl you picked up liked it rough, and when she pulled out the strap-on..." He couldn't keep a straight face after that and grinned hugely for the split second he'd managed to fool Charles. The he pulled Charles forward until he overbalanced and toppled onto Erik's chest and started kissing him hungrily. "Nothing happened," he said, between kisses. "You were practically alseep by the time we got here, so I undressed you and put you to bed."

Charles relaxed. "Oh thank God," he said as he smiled into Erik's beautiful green eyes. "I would hate to have forgotten our first time." 

Erik frowned and flipped them over so he was on top. "Oh, you won't," he murmured. He leaned down and kissed Charles, gently but insistently, until Charles' mouth opened for him and Erik licked all of it. He kissed his way down Charles' torso, experimenting with what kinds of kisses made Charles make noises, kissing and sucking and biting alternatively until Charles was literally writhing under him. 

He impatiently tossed the rest of the bedsheets aside when they started to get in the way and admired Charles' cock before licking a firm, broad trail from the base of his cock to the head. He wrapped his mouth around the member and grasped the base and began moving his mouth and hand in opposite directions but in the same rhythm. To Erik's delight, Charles was quite vocal, moaning his pleasure loudly as he got closer to coming, grasping Erik's shoulders and desperately thrusting into his face. 

"I want to put my fingers inside you," Erik pulled his mouth off Charles' cock long enough to rasp. "Did you happen to bring lube?"

"My blazer," Charles panted. 

Erik retrieved the lube and was pleased to find some condoms with it as well. He lubed up his fingers and put one, then two, then three fingers inside Charles, while resuming sucking his cock. He used Charles cries' and whimpers and moans as a cue for when he needed less or more movement, alternately fucking, twisting and scissoring his fingers; curving them until he found the spot that that made Charles gasp and start begging Erik to fuck him. 

Erik pushed Charles' legs up to his chest and got on his knees on the bed after he rolled a condom on and lubed it liberally. He pressed very slowly at the pucker on Charles' ass, watching his beautiful face contort between discomfort and rapture. He suspected that it had probably been at least a few years since Charles had been fucked, so he moved his penis into Charles as slowly as he could stand to, slowly enough that Charles whined deep in his throat and bucked his pelvis impatiently. 

Erik knew that the size of him could be a problem for lovers who rushed things, so he murmured, "Shhh, schatz, soon," and then grasped Charles' penis and started stroking that as he eventually sunk his own cock all the way in. When he finally started grinding his pelvis, still slowly, Charles was nearly sobbing with relief. Erik gradually built up speed, thrusting his penis inside Charles at a measured tempo and then angling to hit that spot he'd found with his fingers. He knew he'd found it when Charles' blue eyes went wide and his whimpers became incoherent yells. Erik kept stroking Charles' cock throughout and when he realized Charles was close to coming, he began really fucking, hard and fast. Charles keened as he came into Erik's hand and Erik experienced his own shuddering release a few moments after that. 

**

After, after they had lain panting on the bed with one another, and then showered together, and then called to the front desk for a late checkout and then had gone another round, Charles started laughing for no apparent reason. They were both lying flat on their backs, breathing heavily, completely naked. "You thought I was a virgin," he said to Erik.

Erik raised his eyebrows and looked over at him. "I thought you were straight!" He grinned. "Well, confused, but straight."

"Confused? That's interesting," Charles remarked, not offended, but curious. He turned on his side toward Erik and rested his head on his elbow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you liked looking at me," Erik pointed out.

Charles raised his eyebrows. "My, aren't you egotistical!"

Erik laughed at Charles' expression. "It's all over your face," he said, reaching a hand out to touch that face. "Everything you think is on here."

"That's not very fair," Charles responded, looking down and then raising his eyes to Erik's face coquettishly. "I can't tell what you're thinking at all."

"That's probably for the best," Erik said, and the world seemed dimmer for just a moment.

**

Raven was napping on the couch when they got home in the late afternoon. Erik went to his room to change, but Charles felt like he was going to burst if he didn't share with someone, so he woke her up. 

"What? Oh, hi," She said, blinking sleep away from her eyes. "Did you guys have a good time?"

Charles grinned at her. "I'll say. Raven, Erik's gay!"

She frowned at him drowsily. "Yeah, I know. I told you that when you first met him."

Charles expression of joy flipped to one of shock. "What? No you did not!" 

She frowned deeper, a little more awake now. "Yes, I'm sure I -" She looked at Charles with wide eyes. "Wait. For the past six weeks, you've thought - you haven't - " The stricken expression of Charles' face was too much for her and she burst out laughing. 

"Oh my God, that's awesome," She gasped, when she had laughed for about a minute straight. Charles was not as amused. 

"Charles, did you really think I would set you up with someone who was that hot and _straight_? Wow, you must not think that much of me," she continued blithely as Charles sputtered indignantly. 

Erik came into the living room then, holding a brightly-colored oblong package. "What's so funny?" He asked Raven. 

"Oh, I guess I forgot to tell Charles you were gay when I first introduced you two," she explained, without shame. 

Erik looked at Raven in disbelief for a moment and then let out a belly laugh. "Well, that does explain a lot! If it makes any difference, she didn't tell me you were gay either," Erik said to Charles with a smile. 

"Oh, well, I'm - nevermind," Charles cut himself off, wanting to get off that subject. He eyed the package in Erik's hand. "What's that?"

"Oh! Yes, I forgot to give this to you yesterday in all the - ah - excitement, but this is your birthday present." He handed it to Charles, who opened the wrapping reverently, because he knew he was going to love whatever was inside. 

"Oh my God." Charles felt like the ability to breathe had been stolen from him when he uncovered the object inside the package: a metal double-helix, a large facsimilie of a segment of DNA, about a foot long. Along one of the strands was inscribed, "For my husband, Charles Xavier, by Erik Lehnsherr."

"You made that?" Raven asked, amazed. 

Erik nodded, not looking away from Charles' face. "I started it after he told me about his research at Columbia, and then when he told me it would be his birthday, I stayed up late to finish it, the night before last." Erik chuckled ruefully. "Which is sort of ironic, because I was so tired I forgot to give it to him."

"I don't think that's irony," Charles said absently, admiring his new sculpture. 

Erik frowned. "I think it is."

"Well - in any case, I love this, and I love you," Charles leaped up and kissed Erik on the mouth and felt Erik stiffen in surprise and realized what he'd said. He pulled back hastily. "I mean..."

Erik searched Charles' eyes and slowly kissed him again, with a building intensity that was interrupted when a throw pillow hit them in the side of the head. "Get a room already," Raven said, rolling her eyes and hiding a grin. 

**

Charles and Erik still played chess most evenings, and they still argued plenty, too, but most evenings ended in sex. Erik kept his clothes and personal possessions in his room across the hall, but he spent every night in Charles' bed. 

However, despite the many nights they spent talking in low tones after making love while still curled around each other, and despite the fact that Charles shared nearly every detail of his life including his past sexual exploits with Erik, Erik rarely volunteered information about his past and evaded any questions that even tangentially touched on his life before Charles. 

Charles tried to keep his mounting frustration in check. He reminded himself that Erik was a considerate lover, with an almost god-like ability to know exactly what Charles needed and when in bed; that he did more than his fair share of housework and yard work; and that he could cook far better than Charles and certainly than Raven. He even had a romantic streak, in that he would bring Charles flowers occasionally, make him small metal sculptures, or send cute text messages when he was away from home.

Yet. There were times when Erik was moody and uncommunicative. He never raised his voice, but when he got into a mood he would withdraw to the garden and smoke a cigarette instead of playing chess in the study. He could still be convinced to have sex, with no reluctance of affection, and in fact he would fuck so magnificently that Charles held his tongue and almost anticipated Erik's moods with eagerness - almost; because he felt guilty that Erik must be going through something unpleasant. Of course, he rationalized that Erik wouldn't talk to him about that anyway, so he might as well reap the benefits. 

After the first time Charles experienced Erik in one of his "moods," Erik went out and bought a laptop the next day. Charles approached him as he started to set it up.

"You bought a laptop," he observed. 

"Yes," Erik agreed, peering at the screen with a slight frown. "It looks like I will need to set-up internet service; you don't have it already, do you?"

Charles stared at Erik. For some reason the idea of Erik having a laptop, and using the internet, seemed utterly incongruous. "Uh, no," he stammered. "I - haven't found the need of it since I got laid off, and I believe Raven just uses her phone for all her internet usage, which I think is mostly social media." He chewed his lip. "It's odd to think of you using the internet," he admitted.

Erik looked up at Charles from where he was seated, amused. "Why? Did you think I didn't know about the internet? Charles, it's 2012," he chided gently. 

"Haha, very funny," Charles responded, coming behind Erik and putting his chin on the seated man's head. "So - am I allowed to ask why, after two months, you suddenly have an interest in having internet access?"

Charles was pushing his luck, he knew, and Erik stiffened a bit. After a moment he said, "I actually wanted to start looking for a job."

"A job?" Charles repeated blankly.

Erik finally turned and faced Charles head-on. "Charles, are these concepts really so foreign to you?" He sounded mildly exasperated. "Having internet access, getting a job?"

"I just -" Charles stroked Erik's shoulders and arms from behind him. "I'll be getting my inheritance soon. You don't have to work."

It was a mark of Erik's improved mood that he just sighed and kissed Charles' hand at this statement. "I want to work. It's important to me."

Charles just sat on his lap and kissed him until Erik decided to deal with the computer another time and to instead carry Charles to his room and fuck him silly. 

**

One day Erik went out on the train and and came back with a motorcycle. Charles didn't comment, but he was especially needy in bad that night.

**

Erik began making frequent trips into the city on his motorcycle. Sometimes before he left he told Charles he was looking into a job lead, or going to an interview, but sometimes he just kissed him on the cheek and said he'd be back later. He never came home very late, but he did sometimes come home in a bad mood - which Charles responded to with frustration and an almost desperate sexual appetite. 

One morning in early April, Erik left the house early, around 8:00am. That same day Charles, indulgently, helped Raven re-paint the nursery for the third time when she turned to him with a gasp.

"Oh my God, I forgot to tell you," she said, eyes wide with alarm. "INS called last week; they are coming by for their interview with you and Erik on Thursday."

"This Thursday?" Charles asked. "As in, tomorrow?"

Raven nodded, cringing a little. "I'm so sorry I forgot to tell you sooner! Can you forgive me and blame it on pregnancy brain?" 

Charles sighed. "Yes, of course I forgive you. It's just - I'm not prepared for that appointment, and I have no idea when Erik is coming back today."

She frowned. "Why do you need to prepare? I mean it's pretty clear you two have a real relationship, at least from the noises I hear every night," she joked. 

Charles flushed a little, but not for the reason Raven thought. A real relationship. Did they? He wasn't even sure.

**

Erik arrived home in the late afternoon, and he was definitely in A Mood. Charles rubbed his face in his hands and groaned, dreading the conversation he knew they needed to have. He found Erik outside in the garden, smoking. Charles went and stood behind and hugged him and Erik rubbed his arms affectionately. Charles was tempted to leave it at that, to try and be satisfied with mild affection, but he had run out of time to indulge Erik on this. 

"Raven told me today that we got a call last week; the INS representative is coming tomorrow to interview us and make sure we have a real marriage." 

"Okay," Erik said. "What time?"

Charles frowned. "She didn't tell me a time. I doubt she remembers that tidbit."

"Fine," said Erik. It was dissmissive. Charles was being dismissed. He released Erik, but instead of leaving, he walked around and stood in front of Erik, facing him. 

"Erik," Charles began, "I can tell this is not a good time--"

"You're right," Erik said. "It's not."

Charles closed his eyes for a moment and continued. "They are going to ask us questions about each other, to determine if we have a real marriage."

Erik didn't say anything, just took a drag of his cigarette, looking at Charles. 

"Erik, I don't know anything about you." He paused, but no response was forthcoming. "I don't know your fucking _birthday_."

A muscle in Erik's jaw twitched. Charles was breaking The Rule. He seemed to be considering and finally spit the words out. "April 2, 1977." 

Charles felt a tiny bit of elation, for a moment. Information! He did the math. "So you are thirty-five. And--" Charles swallowed. "Erik, your thirty-fifth birthday was last week."

Erik was gritting his teeth, cigarette forgotten, staring daggers at Charles. 

"Three weeks _after_ mine," Charles said incredulously. "How could you - not have said anything?"

Erik shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me!" Charles cried. "Why wouldn't you give me the opportunity to celebrate you? Do you know how much that hurts me?"

Erik looked away, his lips pressed in a hard line.

"Erik-" Charles looked up, willing his tears not to fall. "In many ways you are very good to me. But you keep so much from me that I feel - off-balance. I don't recognize myself anymore. I don't _like_ myself. I hate that you keep things from me, and I've tried to honor your request and give you the space you need but a lot rides on this interview tomorrow!"

When Erik finally speaks, his voice is like ice. "What else do you need to know for the interview?"

"Aaah--well, you said you are looking for a job. What kind of job?"

"Mechanic."

"What else do you do? When you're out?"

The look Erik gave Charles clearly said he was not going to answer that, and Charles started to feel an ugly anger coiling inside him. 

"No," Charles said, walking up to Erik and standing tall six inches in front of his face. "No, you can't change the rules whenever you feel like it. Why can't you tell me what you do?" Charles was shouting, directly at Erik's face.

"I'm trying to protect you." Each word was bitten off, harshly.

Charles crossed his arms. "Bullshit. I cannot believe that you are in the kind of trouble that would bring harm to me just by knowing about it. _You_ wouldn't have problems like that. You are not that kind of man."

Charles saw something other than granite in Erik's eyes then - a flicker, a softening, a depth rarely glimpsed. "You have no idea what kind of man I am," he said, and the measured words belied his eyes. 

"Then tell me!" Charles yelled. He immediately regretted the outburst, rubbing his forehead, and taking some measured breaths.

Erik just looked at him, lips pressed tight. 

After a moment, he decided this conversation was a lost cause, although, he thought bitterly, absolutely nothing had been resolved and tomorrow's appointment was going to be a clusterfuck. 

"Can we get to the part where we fuck now?" he said unpleasantly. "Sometimes I think that's all you're good for."

It was a nasty thing to say, and completely untrue, and he recognized that the moment it was out of his mouth. Even so, he was not prepared for Erik's reaction. Erik's face crumpled in pain, and then his body crumpled. He fell heavily to his knees with a sob that was half scream.

"Oh my God --" Charles heart plummeted, and he instantly wanted to take it all back. "Erik, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, please, please, forgive me!"

Erik sobbed on his knees, his arms wrapped around himself. "Not you," he whispered, choked. "I can't."

Charles felt a panic rise up in him. He'd hurt Erik; impassive, strong, kind Erik, Charles hurt him and he hated himself for it. He was desperate to comfort Erik. He sat on the ground next to the sobbing man and pulled him down so Erik fell between Charles legs, his head on Charles' shoulder. They sat like that for a long time, Erik crying, hard at first but winding down, and Charles stroking him and making soothing sounds that meant nothing. Charles' legs were cramping but he refused to move, wishing love and comfort to Erik as if he could send it telepathically. 

Charles only realized he had falledn asleep in that position when he woke a little later as Erik helped him to his feet and to bed. His legs were so badly cramped that he could barely walk, but Erik wordlessly helped him get inside and undressed and into bed, and accepted Charles snuggling up against him. 

The last thing Charles heard before he fell asleep again, just the barest whisper of explanation, haunted his dreams. 

_"That was what he used to say."_

**

The next morning, Erik woke to find Charles gazing at him with so much sorrow that it almost broke him all over again. "Please don't," he whispered, closing his eyes. 

Charles lay down and put his head down in the crook of Erik's shoulder. 

Erik bore no resentment towards Charles for his words the previous night. He knew Charles couldn't have possibly known how those words would trigger him; that he'd had no way of knowing how brittle Erik's facade was. Charles had no idea how much it pained Erik to hold anything back from him, and he didn't know these things because Erik had been very careful not to show him that. Erik felt the full culpability for their fight lay on his shoulders, and it was only because Charles was so patient and careful with him that they hadn't had a confrontation sooner. 

One thing Charles said the night before kept going through Erik's head - the part about not believing harm would come to him just from knowing about something. Maybe he had a point with that; in fact, Charles did or soon would have resources that would doubtless make several of Erik's problems moot. And Erik didn't have so much pride that he wouldn't accept help if Charles offered it. But the bigger problem was that if Azazel found Charles, and found out how much Charles meant to Erik, Charles' life would be in danger. So the only solution for that was--

\--For him not to do what he already done. Erik sighed. If only he'd been stronger, if he'd been able to resist caring, resist loving him, Charles would be safe.

"Why the sigh?" Charles murmured. Erik ached to be able to tell him everything, but this, at least, he could answer honestly.

"I was wishing, for your sake, that I was a better man," he said into Charles' hair. 

"Oh, Erik." 

Erik intended that line to be an opening to the rest of what he wanted to say to Charles, wanting to tell him about Pietro and Azazel and even Shaw. But then Charles' soft lips were on his mouth, insistent, probing, gentle at first then more demanding. Erik, for once, did not take control, but let Charles kiss him and do what he would. Except--

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Charles whispered, as he dragged his teeth across a nipple. Erik shook his head - no, not that. But he made encouraging sounds when Charles moved his head towards Erik's cock and was rewarded by a warm mouth around his penis. Erik groaned and relaxed into it, telling himself it was okay to just receive pleasure. _it's okay it's okay it's okay_ he chanted in his head, resisting the urge to flip Charles over and suck or fuck him. 

The chant erupted out of his mouth in a breathless whisper as he got close to coming and Charles masturbated him to completion. Charles looked at him in surprise, seemed about to say something, and then decided against it. 

Erik felt himself blushing, something he rarely did. "I didn't mean - ah, that was great," he said lamely. 

Charles was more pereceptive than Erik had given him credit for, though. He put his hand flat on Erik's chest and looked up at him with his beautiful blue eyes. "You wanted that, right?"

Erik nodded. "Yes, yes, I did. Thank you."

"If you ever don't..."

"I would tell you," he said immediately. "Of course. Charles, I wouldn't do something I don't want to. Not anymore. Okay?"

Charles nodded, but didn't look one hundred percent convinced. 

"It's hard for me - to just - accept pleasure," he said haltingly. 

Charles didn't say anything in response, but the shadow behind his eyes cleared and he gave Erik a beautiful smile and a kiss. Erik opened his mouth to tell Charles--

There was a knock at the bedroom door. 

Both men's head snapped in that direction and Charles hastily grabbed the sheet to cover them. "Raven?" Charles called. 

Raven opened the door and peeked inside. "Oh God, my eyes. The guy from immigration is here!" 

"Scheisse," Erik muttered at the same time Charles said "Shit." 

**

The immigration officer, Mr. Quested, conducted interviews with Erik and Charles individually, as Charles had expected. Erik went first, and when he came out he gave Charles a reassuring smile and a kiss. Charles was not quite as sanguine about how his interview would go.

Some of the questions asked of Charles he was expecting, about the inheritance and the wording in his mother's will, about his relationship with Emma Frost, but some questions did not make any sense to him, such as when Janos asked him about Cain Marko.

"Cain?" Charles frowned. "Cain is my stepbrother." 

"Can you describe your relationship with Cain?"

"Uhh...non-existant? I mean, we both lived here for a time as teenagers, we fought a bit as boys do, but nothing - extreme comes to mind."

"When was the last time you had any contact with him?"

Charles frowned. "My mother's funeral," he finally said. "About ten years ago." Quested merely nodded, taking notes. 

Of course the bulk of the questions were about Erik. He asked Charles to describe how they'd met and Charles told as close to the truth as he could, wishing he and Erik had aligned their stories. Charles described meeting Erik at the immigration center where his sister worked one night when he'd gone to meet her there; asking him to coffee, getting his phone number, inviting him to move in with Charles, Erik offering to help Charles move to the mansion, and falling in love with him on moving day. Charles was pleased with the story he'd crafted, thinking that if he left out the part where they agreed to get married before anything else happened, it was basically true. But, he wasn't prepared for Quested's follow-up question:

"Did you discuss charging him any rent, or did he offer to pay you any, on that day you first talked about it?"

"No, of course," Charles said immediately, mostly because Erik _had_ offered him money and he didn't intend to reveal that to Quested. He paused as he realized the mistake. 

"I just want to clarify, Mr, Xavier, that you offered a man you had just met a place to stay, rent-free?" 

"Well," Charles said weakly, "Have you seen the man?"

Quested abruptly chuckled. "Okay, let's move on. What kind of a relationship do you have with Erik's son Pietro?"

Time stopped for a moment. Charles opened his mouth to speak and it hung there for a moment. "I - I haven't met him yet," he said softly.

Quested nodded and watched him carefully. Charles didn't say anything else about it. 

"It looks like- " Quested opened a file that Charles thought resentfully had a lot more information about Erik in it than Charles knew. "It looks like Mr. Lehnsherr had a birthday recently. What did you do to celebrate?"

Charles closed his eyes. He was determined not to give in to the lump in his throat, or the small voice in the back of his head telling him the rest of this interview was pointless, they'd already lost. "Nothing," he whispered finally.

"Nothing?" Quested frowned at Charles. "Nothing at all? Not even a card?"

"I forgot," Charles said hollowly.

"Oh." Mr. Quested seemed unexpectedly sympathetic, probably misinterpreting Charles's response. "Well, did you make it up to him?"

"Not yet," Charles said, looking up now to make eye contact with the INS officer, "But I intend to."

**

Erik caught his eye in a silent question as Charles came out of the interview. Charles gave him the briefest shake of his head and looked away. "Mr. Quested," Erik said with a smile, offering a handshake. "Thank you for your time today. Do you know when...?"

"You will be contacted by mail within the next two weeks," Quested said smoothly. He looked at Charles and his professional facade seemed to slip, minutely. "I wish you both the best of luck," he said, sincerely, just before he left.

"How did it go?" Erik said immediately, coming to Charles and stroking his cheek. 

"I don't know," Charles admitted. "Probably not well. But Erik -" he looked up at his husband and could no longer mask the pain and hurt and confusion that he knew Erik would see in his eyes. "Can we talk about Pietro?"

Erik closed his eyes and finally nodded.


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik finally talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell you how thrilled I am with all the positive feedback. Thank you!! I will keep trying to update every day or so!
> 
> (Contains references to past abuse)

"Let's go for a ride," Erik said.

Charles eyebrows shot up. "A ride? On your motorcycle?" 

Erik nodded. "Last night you asked me where I go, when I leave here, and I thought I could show you, if you like." He took Charles left hand, absently rubbed his thumb over Charles' wedding ring. "And we can talk."

Charles nodded. "Yes, I'd like that. Could I shower first, though?"

Erik chuckled. "Of course. Let me know when you're ready to go."

**

Thirty minutes later, Charles was clinging to Erik in terrified delight on the back of the motorcycle. They rode for about twenty minutes through some back roads crowded by trees and high grasses, and then Erik turned onto a dirt road that led to the top of a small hill with a willow tree on it. There were no other houses around nearby, although some buildings were visible in the distance; it was far from a spectacular view, but it was private and peaceful. 

"I guess you're probably hungry?" Erik asked after they had both gotten off the bike.

"Come to think of it, I'm ravenous," Charles realized. They'd skipped breakfast due to the immigration officer being there that morning and it was past lunchtime now. Erik pulled a blanket and a bag with some food out of the saddlebags: a loaf of french bread, a block of English cheddar cheese, grapes, and a sausage.

"If we weren't already married, I would think you were planning to propose," Charles joked.

"What does that mean?" Erik looked at Charles in confusion and then looked at the spread on the picnic blanket. "I just thought - this is what I ate when I was a child. Well, except the grapes." 

"Well, it's very romantic," Charles declared, sitting down on the blanket and tearing some bread off the loaf. "Very _Erik_." 

"What? I'm not romantic," Erik scoffed, sitting down himself and helping himself to some bread. 

"Not roma--" Charles looked at Erik in surprise, closed his eyes and shook his head. "Oh you are the most adorable..." he said, to himself in a whisper that trailed off into nothingness, then cleared his throat. "I don't want to get derailed by this line of discussion, because it is an argument that I very much look forward to winning another time." He grinned at Erik and tried to think of a good segue. "Do you come here a lot, then?"

Erik leaned back on his hands. "I do, when I get really angry. It calms me."

Charles thought about that. "I don't think I've ever seen you angry."

Erik looked at Charles in surprise. "I'm always angry," he said. 

He didn't elaborate, so after a moment Charles prompted him again. "Why didn't you eat grapes when you were younger?" he asked, gently.

Erik looked at Charles and exhaled slowly. "We couldn't get them," he said. "I only had the faintest idea what they were." 

Charles waited, patiently, chewing, and watching Erik. 

"So you know about Magda..." Erik said, thinking.

Charles considered. "I don't think so. Unless - was that your wife?"

Erik nodded. "Yes. She died in 1997."

Charles frowned. "She must have been awfully young."

"Yes, I - " Erik shook his head. "I'm doing this all out of order. I should go back--oh dammit." He put his head in his hands. "This is really difficult for me, Charles, I'm sorry. When you tell me that I'm romantic, when you are confident of what I am or am not capable of, when I don't even know myself - I like that. I like how you see me, and it's hard for me to tell you things that will change your opinion."

"Erik," said Charles, moving so that he was kneeling between Erik's spread legs on the blanket. Looking into Erik's eyes, he put his hand on Erik's cheek and Erik leaned into the contact. "You can't. I know you by what you do, by how you act. Whatever you did in the past, whatever was done to you, it made you the man you are now, a man I--love." Charles leaned forward and kissed Erik gently on the lips, trying to put into that kiss all the warmth and love and acceptance he had to give. Erik reached his right hand up to the back of Charles' neck as his left encircled Charles' waist, deepening the kiss and drawing Charles closer to him, but Charles very gently put his hands on Erik's chest and disengaged. 

"You're not getting off that easily," Charles said lightly, and added, "Pun intended." He lay down on the blanket and put his head in Erik's lap, waiting, patiently. 

Erik took a deep breath. "My parents died when I was very young, maybe four years old. I only have the faintest memories of them, mostly just the night of the fire, the night they died. I was so scared - the sirens scared me and I hid from the firemen. After the fire I went through the house and saw our family's most prized possesion, a gold menorah. I could barely carry it but I tried. A man found me trying to carry it - Sebastian Shaw. He took my menorah from me and told me he would keep it safe for me if I would live with him. Shaw was - is - a very bad man. He had a lot of wealth and I knew even at that age that he was a criminal. He did - whatever he wanted, and it was--there were other boys living in his house too, and I didn't get the worst of it, but-- _Mein Gott_ ," he broke off, "Maybe I shouldn't have gone that far back. I'm really messing this up," he moaned, putting his head in his hands.

Charles took one of his hands in his own. "No, no, you're not, please don't think that way." Charles remembered Erik's breakdown the night before, the hollow sound of his voice when he said " _That's what he used to say."_ He hesitated. "Would it help if - just - assume the worst about Sebastian Shaw? Then you don't have to say it?"

Unexpectedly, Erik laughed, even though his eyes shone wet. "Well, yes, actually. Although possibly it was worse than you can imagine. But - yes, assume the worst."

"Okay," said Charles softly, and tried not to let his mind delve into that too much. 

"Soo.." Erik swallowed. "There was a lot of confusion when the wall fell, and I was able to escape him, finally. I was twelve."

"The wall..." Charles contemplated. "Were you living in East Berlin?"

"Yes, didn't I say?" 

Charles' phone made a noise. He ignored it.

"I think I would have remembered that. But it does explain the grapes."

Erik ran his fingers through Charles' hair, fondly. "I suppose so. So, the next year, for almost a whole year, I lived on the streets in West Berlin. It was - hard, winter especially was hard. I ate out of trash cans and stole from tourists and got money from giving occasional blow jobs. I slept in doorways, under bridges, or cars I had broken into. One time I broke into a house and the family was home. Instead of calling the police they sat me down and asked me why I was robbing them and I told them I was hungry and showed them my ribs. They fed me dinner, and offered me a shower, and gave me a bed to sleep in. That night - I felt like I was in heaven." Erik picked up some grapes and fed one to Charles, then had one himself. 

"But the next day, they wanted the - well, the equivalent of Social Services, or child protective services - to take me and I begged them to stay with them. I told them everything about Shaw, even the things I haven't told you yet--" Erik looked down at Charles "I'm so sorry, I will, eventually, I just--"

"It's fine, Erik," Charles said gently. Erik gave him another grape.

"Well. Anyway, even after I told them that they were still not sure, but their daughter, a girl about a year older than me, was quite taken with me. She argued on my behalf for them to let me stay there, and they eventually agreed." Erik popped a grape in his mouth again.

"So, I felt a lot of gratitude towards this girl. I loved her like a sister, but after a while she seemed to have a different kind of feeling for me. She always wanted to play doctor, or other similar games - well, anyway. " Erik paused. "We were having intercourse by the time I was fifteen. I knew it wasn't right, I knew I wasn't even that interested in her that way, but at that age--" he shrugged. "I had an erection pretty much all the time." 

Charles nodded in sympathy. He'd been fifteen, once, too.

"Eventually I tried to stop, told her this wasn't right. She got angry and said she would tell her parents I forced her and I would be out on the street again. And then when I was seventeen, she got pregnant."

"This is Magda you're talking about," Charles guessed. 

Erik nodded. "We got married as soon as I turned eighteen. Her parents were very unhappy about it but they were unhappier about the idea of us not getting married - so. Pietro was born a few months after our wedding, and I got a job working in fast food that I hated, and we moved into our own tiny apartment."

Erik stroked Charles' hair, his eyes gazing forward, drawn into his own memories. "Our marriage was a joke. I loved my son but I resented her and no longer had any interest in her sexually. After a year or so I started going out to clubs, picking up men and fucking them, doing a lot of ecstasy, and coke, and I didn't try very hard to hide it from her. So--she kicked me out."

Charles' phone made another noise, and he impatiently reached into his pocket and switched it off.

Erik looked into Charles' eyes. "This is one of those parts that may be hard for you to hear, but I'm going to try and tell you anyway."

Charles nodded. "I'll understand if you can't."

"I was technically homeless again, but it was different, because I was living out of hotels. I had gained a reputation in Berlin for being good at--fucking men, and I do mean to distinguish that from being fucked. Topping, I guess is the best English translation." Erik looked down at Charles. "Do you know what I mean?"

Charles let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "I most certainly do."

"So I - went into business, started charging for my--services. I quit my fast-food job. I got so I could tell what a man wanted without him having to tell me, fuck him just the way he wanted to be fucked."

Charles bit his lip, trying very hard not to get aroused by the conversation. "I may have, uh, noticed that."

Erik smiled and looked down at Charles. "Oh, you, Charles--you are the easiest to read. Your body sings to me. Making love to you is like playing a - Strativarius."

Charles voice caught in his throat. "That might be the most beautiful and arousing thing anyone has ever said to me." Erik's eyes flicked to the tented crotch of Charles' pants and Charles felt the beginning of a response under his head lying in Erik's lap. He turned his head to nuzzle at it and Erik gently stopped him with a hand on his cheek, and a chuckle. 

"Later, schatz," he chided gently, with an indulgent smile. "You wanted to hear about my past, yes?"

Charles bit his lip and nodded contritely. "Okay. Yes. So, you were the best gigolo in Berlin, and probably making lots of money, yes?"

Erik snorted in mirth. "You took that a lot easier than I thought you would. Essentially, yes. It sounds terrible to say it, but I think those were the best years of my life up until that time. I didn't feel I was living a lie anymore; I felt in control, for the first time ever. I stopped doing drugs, got an apartment instead of staying in hotels every night and started saving up a bit of money." Erik's smile faded. "I had not been in touch with Magda or her family, including my son, for about seven months at that point. It started to really bother me, and one day I showed up at our old apartment and she didn't live there anymore."

Erik plucked a blade of grass and pulled it apart while he continued. "So I went to her family's house and they--" Erik forced his eyes shut. "They said terrible things to me, things I don't want to repeat, and it hurt because it was all true-- I left Magda, and Pietro, and I fucked men for a living. But these were the people who had shown me such care and kindness when I needed it, and it just--hurt."

"Only after they had been screaming at me on their front lawn for twenty minutes did they tell me that Magda died in a car accident shortly after I left her. They said it was because she was out late at night looking for me, but honestly I don't think that was the case. She was done with me when she kicked me out - I think her parents just wanted to rub a little salt in the wound." Erik choked back a sob as he said that. 

Charles crawled out of Erik's lap and sat next to him, wrapping his arms around Erik's shoulders and pulling his head to Charles' shoulder. "Oh, Schatz, I'm sorry," Charles murmured. 

Erik lifted his head in puzzlement at Charles. "How do you know to call me Schatz?"

Charles kissed his forehead. "Silly, you call me that all the time," Charles said, smiling. "I sure hope it doesn't mean shithead."

Erik choked out surprised laughter. "Ha! No." 

He didn't say anything else for a moment, so Charles prompted him. "Did your in-laws tell you you couldn't see Pietro?"

Erik sat up and pulled Charles in front of him, so he was sitting up between Erik's legs. "They told me they sent him to New York to live with a relative, to keep him away from me."

"Oh," breathed Charles. He was beginning to see where this was going. "So you went after him."

Charles felt Erik sigh against his neck. "No. I should have. I wish I wasn't such a coward. I did quit prostituting myself, though; the words that Magda's parents threw at me had hurt, a lot, and I didn't want them to be true anymore. I took the money I'd saved and went to a trade school to learn car and motorcycle repair. And--" he sighed. "Then nothing happened for a while."

Charles frowned. "Nothing?" 

"Oh, I got a job, and made enough to support myself, and every once in a while I would go to the clubs and find someone to hook up with for the evening, but overall my life felt - empty. I read a lot. I guess I was depressed. I thought about Pietro a lot but I'd realized by that point that he was better off without me."

Charles squeezed the hands that were clasped in front of him. "But you obviously changed your mind."

"Yes. The shop I worked in had some regular customers, and this one guy would bring in cars about every week, different cars. He was a hired driver, a quiet guy - not very chatty, but not near as scary as he looked - I guess I should mention he was about 6'6", probably 300 pounds of muscle, this huge Russian guy. After a few years, I'd look forward to him coming in, and we would talk about motorcycles and literature - a couple of times we had beers together."

"Sounds like the beginnings of falling in love?" Charles guessed, trying to push down the pang of jealousy that he felt. 

Erik laughed. "No, Azazel was a decent guy, but he's significant to me only in who his employer was." Erik seemed to be waiting for Charles to figure it out.

It wasn't obvious to Charles, but he thought about it and made a guess. "Shaw?"

Charles felt Erik swallow. "Yes."

Charles phone made an incredibly loud and obnoxious noise. "What the--" Charles pulled the device out of his pocket and stared at it. "I turned it off!"

"I think some phones can turn themselves back on if an urgent message is sent?" Erik said, doubtfully.

Charles hastily checked his phone. There was a voice mail from Hank and sixteen SMS messages from Raven. "Oh God," said Charles, the color draining from his face as he scanned the texts. "We have to go home right now."

**

Charles read the texts again as they drove.

**_Charles please call me_ **

**_Charles, where are you?_ **

**_Charles WTF_ **

**_my baby daddy wants to come over today and I don't know what to do_ **

**_charles please answer your phone_ **

**_hes on his way now i can't do this_ **

**_please dont ignore me i need you_ **

**_GODDAMMIT CHARLES_ **

**_im freaking out_ **

**_did i mention hes kinda scary_ **

**_im sorry charles whatever i did im sorry_ **

**_ok your phone is probably off_ **

**_but im pregnant and scared and i need you_ **

**_im sorry i didnt tell you about him_ **

**_please please just come home_ **

**_hes out fornt_ **

It was too hard to talk to Erik while driving, so Charles just gritted his teeth and hoped his sister was okay. 

**

Erik drove as quickly as safety would allow back to the mansion. When they got there, he pulled his helmet off and was already pulling out his phone as he asked Charles, "I guess she's in labor? Should I call an ambulance?"

Charles put his hand out stop Erik dialing. "No, it's not that. She said the father of her baby is here."

Erik stopped for a moment, utterly confused. "Oh. Is that - an emergency?"

"It is to her," Charles replied. He looked at Erik. "Maybe there's some pregnancy brain involved, but she said he was 'kind of a scary guy'."

Erik just felt even more confused. "You haven't met him?"

Charles sighed. "Don't judge."

Erik held his hands up, his eyebrows up in surprise. "No, no, I - " He shot a look at the front door. "If she's scared, we should go inside."

Erik led the way to the door and walked into the living room, where he saw - Azazel. "What the--" he had time to say before a giant Russian fist punched him in the face.


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azazel and Erik have words, bad news, and meeting Pietro

"Azazel, what the hell?" Raven cried, and went to Erik, who had stepped back upon being punched and lost his balance, despite Charles having tried to catch his arm. 

"What is this man doing in your house?" The large man demanded. He had a Russian accent and a ruddy complexion. 

Charles's mind finally connected the dots and he looked at Raven with a dropped jaw. "Raven, is this--" he could not find the words and pointed wordlessly at her belly. 

Raven and Charles helped Erik to an upright position again, and Raven rolled her eyes. "Erik, here, is my brother-in-law, and this is my brother, Charles." She walked up to Azazel with crossed arms. "And this is Azazel, otherwise known as the sperm donor." She glared and the large man cowered a bit under her glare, despite the fact that she was over a foot shorter than he was. 

"This man is the reason I come to New York," Azazel said, his huge finger stabbing towards Erik, but addressing Raven. His voice was loud, but it was not because he was raising his voice. "I was sent here to retrieve him because he stole from my employer."

"I stole back what belonged to _me_!" Erik said angrily. "Shaw stole that menorah from me when I was a child. It never belonged to him." 

Azazel regarded Erik with dark eyes. He looked at Raven, at Charles. "Explain." 

Erik seemed taken aback at Azazel's response. "Ahh, yes, okay," He said, rubbing his face tiredly. "I will explain. But can we have a truce for a moment? Do you want a beer?"

"Erik..." Charles said in alarm. 

Azazel looked at Charles, and Raven, and nodded slowly. "Okay, comrade, we will have beers."

**

"Raven, how could you have forgotten to mention that this man might be coming to our _house_?" Charles whispered to his sister. They sat in the living room, as Erik and Azazel had moved to the garden to talk. 

"Hello, sixteen text messages," she said to him in exasperation. 

"But - how did he even know where to find you?"

She looked down. "I may have mentioned on Facebook that I was living at the Xavier family mansion." Charles groaned, and Raven snapped her head up. "Well, what's with Erik anyway? What exactly did he do to piss off Azazel's boss?"

Charles shook his head helplessly. "I think he was just getting to that when I got your emergency text - he had just described meeting Azazel." Charles frowned. "Pretty ironic, actually."

"That's not irony, Charles," Raven said tiredly.

**

Erik handed Azazel a beer and indicated the door to the garden. The larger man inclined his head and led the way outside. It was an unseasonably warm dusk and the two men simply stood and enjoyed drinking for a moment.

"It's been a while," Erik finally said. He spoke in German, the language that he had always spoken with Azazel.

Azazel grunted. "I thought you were here to come after me when you first walked in the door," he said. 

Erik puffed air out his nostrils in an approximation of mirth and shook his head. He had no desire to see Azazel harmed. "You have nothing to fear from me."

Azazel turned his head and regarded Erik, his face completely black because he was backlit. "I wish I could say the same."

Erik took a deep breath, deciding to ignore the implied threat in Azazel’s words and get to the hard part of the conversation. "How well do you know Shaw?"

Azazel pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Erik, who accepted it. He lit his own before answering. "I'm under no delusions that he is a good man." 

It was a start. "You are his driver, yes? Part of his household staff?"

Azazel shrugged. "Not quite part of the household staff. I drive for him, wash the cars, take the them for servicing, courier, retrieval." As he said the last word, he looked significantly at Erik. 

Erik swallowed and asked forced himself to ask the question he was dreading. "Do you know--are there boys in his house?"

Azazel got very still and took his time before answering. "I heard rumors for years before I started to think there was truth to them. Then I tried not to think about it." He glanced at Erik. "Did he take someone you care about?"

Erik closed his eyes and forced himself to say the words. "I was one of his boys."

Azazel inhaled sharply but said nothing, his face unreadable in the low lighting.

"When he found me, he took the only possession I had in the world." Erik looked at Azazel. "When I met you, I saw the opportunity to take it back."

Azazel was contemplative for a moment and then sighed, nodded. "I understand." He took a drag of his cigarette before he spoke again. "Did you know Shaw is in the USA right now?" 

Erik felt a jolt of anxiety. "No."

"I can't promise he won't find you, with or without my help." Azazel paused a moment before continuing, and sighed. "But I have compassion for you. I wish I could do more, but I can tell you I won't retrieve you for him."

Erik exhaled slowly. "That's all I wanted."

Azazel crushed out his cigarette under his foot. "Unfortunately, I think this will have repercussions for both of us."

Erik felt weak with relief and gratitude, glad that his estimation of Azazel had been correct. "I understand. Thank you, my friend."

Erik heard the patio door creak and saw Raven peeking outside. He switched to English. "So, how did you meet Raven?" he asked Azazel conversationally. 

Azazel was not a in position to see Raven. "I came to the Immigration Resource center looking for you last year, and I was instantly smitten. She is beautiful, and challenging." 

Raven froze. 

"So you asked her out to dinner?" Erik prompted, hiding a grin as he saw Raven holding her breath.

Azazel chuckled. "Seven times before she said yes," he reminisced. 

"Seven? More like twelve," Raven snorted, finally coming out to join them. "Did you apologize for punching Erik?" She demanded of Azazel.

The large man looked sheepish. "I meant to. Brother, I am sorry for punching you."

"Forgiven," Erik said, rubbing his cheek ruefully. "I'll look tough for a while, that's all." 

**

Charles and Erik took the train into the city to see Hank, and to coincidentally give Raven and Azazel the chance to get better acquainted. 

"He still scares me," Charles muttered to Erik. "Can you explain to me exactly how you turned that around so fast?"

Erik gave Charles a brief summary of his conversation with Azazel. "Also, I think it helps that he considers us family now. He seems to care about Raven a lot, or he wants to, if she'll let him."

They arrived at Hank's office. "Hello Charles, Erik," Hank said, nodding his greeting. "Thanks for coming to see me, although we could have talked over the phone." 

"Ah, well, we needed to get out of the house," Charles said with a smile.

"Very well. Cain Marko's attorney has asked me for documentation regarding the validity of your, ah, marriage." Hank pushed up his glasses.

"What does that mean?" Erik asked, looking from Charles to Hank.

Charles answered. "Cain is my step-brother. I believe he inherits my mother’s estate if I don't; is that right, Hank?"

Hank hesitated. "Technically, yes. Right now the estate is being held in a trust that would transfer to Kurt Marko or his heirs if you, Charles, do not meet the conditions of inheritance. Kurt Marko passed away a number of years ago, and his only heir is Cain Marko." He looked down and looked uncomfortable. "His attorney told me that he plans to argue that since your marriage cannot be federally recognized, it should not be valid for the purposes of your mother's will."

Charles nodded, but Erik still felt like he was missing something. "Wait. What? Pretend I'm from another country. We're married. What do you mean by federally recognized?" 

"The Defense of Marriage Act," Charles said glumly. "It's been in effect since 1996. Even though we are married in the eyes of New York State, the United States Government does not recognize our marriage."

"Oh," said Erik. "Well, that doesn't sound good."

"Have you heard form the INS?" Charles asked Hank. 

"Yes. Well, actually, nothing specific about you two yet, but I have heard that the INS is examining same-sex marriages especially closely because the validity of such marriages is a legal gray area. Politically, it's not ideal to invalidate a marriage solely on the grounds that it is a same-sex union, but if they can find any other reason, they are using that." Hank sighed and looked very unhappy. 

"Soo..." Charles paused. "You are basically saying that it didn’t work. I am not going to inherit my mother's estate, and Erik won't be able to stay in this country." 

"I--" Hank started to speak, then hesitated. "Yeah, that basically what I'm saying," he said with a sigh. "I'm sorry."

**

Charles and Erik had a very glum train ride back to Westchester. "I wouldn't have cared about not being able to stay in this country before," Erik said, a good ten minutes after they had left Hank's office. 

"Before what?" Charles asked.

"Before - you," Erik said. "I'd planned to find Pietro and give the menorah to him, without Shaw knowing, and then go after Shaw."

"What do you mean by 'go after'?" Charles asked, a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

Erik glanced around the train at the other passengers. "Maybe you could just assume the worst," he said.

Charles blood ran cold. "No. No, Erik, you can't do that."

Erik looked at Charles for a moment. He sighed and looked down. "I'm sorry I couldn't finish today and tell you everything in - that place, where I could hold you and explain why it has to be the way it is."

"Erik!" Charles hissed. "I wouldn't find - _that_ \- any less repugnant if you were holding me! Do you think I can be so easily manipulated?"

"Charles, I don't want to fight about this, not here," Erik's eyes were darting around the train car. "No, I don't think you are easily manipulated, and you - being with you - has changed everything. So can we please finish this conversation later?"

Charles sat up straight against his seatback, lips tight. 

Erik started to say something and stopped himself twice. Charles finally said, irritated, "Oh, what is it?"

"Please don't mention Pietro to Azazel," Erik turned Charles face towards him so their eyes locked and whispered, pain in his eyes. "I can't risk Shaw finding out about him."

Looking into Erik's eyes, Charles had a revelation in that moment which he found both euphoric and terrifying: he would love Eric even if the man did commit murder. Charles exhaled, trembling, and put his arm around his husband. "Of course I won't," he murmured into Erik's temple. 

**

Azazel didn't leave. 

Nobody had specifically invited him to stay, but nobody wanted to ask him to leave, either. The first night, when Erik and Charles crept home the late evening, they heard Raven arguing with him about how she didn't want him to share her bed. They discovered the next morning that he'd simply found a spare room with a bed in it and slept there. 

He was polite, except that he followed Raven and wanted to help her with everything. She complained about it bitterly, but Charles knew her well enough to know that she liked the attention. For the first three days, anytime Raven would complain about Azazel, Charles would offer to ask him to leave. Raven's only reply was "Nah." He stopped asking after that and accepted that Azazel was a fixture in his home. At least, until it wasn't his home any longer. 

Charles waited a few days before broaching the subject of finishing the talk with Erik that had been interrupted on the train. He finally did one night after they had finished having sex, naked and panting next to each other on Charles' bed. 

"You've told me that you plan to find Pietro and give him the menorah," Charles said carefully. 

Erik nodded, still catching his breath. "Yes."

"And after that?"

"With Pietro?"

Charles considered. "Well, I meant Shaw, but that's a good question too."

Erik sighed. "Shaw is going to keep coming after me. Not only did I steal from him, I embarrassed him, and he is not a man to let that slide. He's already in the United States. I have a better chance of surviving if I surprise him."

"You mean kill him," Charles said. He needed to hear it plainly.

Erik was quiet for a moment. "Yes."

Charles' stomach turned inside out and he wondered if he would be able to get through this conversation without getting sick. "And what happens after that?" 

Erik rubbed his forehead. "There are a few likely scenarios. Either he kills me instead of me killing him, or I kill him and one of his men kills me, or I get arrested and sent to prison." He looked at Charles, who stared straight at the ceiling, not moving. 

Erik rolled on his side to face his lover. "Charles," Erik said softly, "Please look at me." Charles turned on his side and the tears that had been filling up his blue eyes slid down his cheek and across the bridge of his nose. "I'm trying to think of something, any other way to solve this. Before, I didn't care. I was prepared for prison or death. But you -" Erik gently kissed Charles' red, tear-wetted lips. "You give me a reason to keep trying." 

Charles didn't hold back then, as he turned and sobbed into his husband's shoulder unabashedly.

**

The next morning, Erik was excited. He pulled Charles into the bedroom after looking around to see if Azazel was nearby. "I've found him," he whispered to Charles. "I found Pietro!"

"Erik, that's wonderful," Charles said, smiling, deliberately pushing last night's conversation out of his head.

"I've arranged to meet with him tonight, for dinner. Would you like to come?"

Charles' eyebrows went up. "Are you sure?"

Erik looked surprised. "Of course I'm sure! Why wouldn't I want you there?"

"First meeting with your son, after so many years - do you think meeting his father's lover is what he wants?" Charles bit his lip, because he did want to go, but he was trying to look at the situation from Pietro's perspective.

Erik waved that away. "I've been corresponding with him a little bit already. He responded to an online inquiry I placed and we exchanged a few emails before he agreed to meet with me. He's - " Erik paused and smiled. "He's a little bit of a smart ass," he said proudly, and looked at Charles. "I know he won't be bothered if you are there, and I really want you to be," Erik continued. 

"Well, then, I would be happy to have dinner with you and your son." Charles smiled to see Erik so pleased. Certainly trouble was on the horizon, but for now, he was looking forward to meeting Pietro. 

**

Erik ran an errand that afternoon, and Charles used the opportunity to seek out Azazel, who was reading _What to Expect When You're Expecting_. "Azazel, if I'm interested in meeting Sebastian Shaw, how would I go about doing that?"

Azazel eyed him and responded carefully. "I could probably arrange a meeting, but he won't be interested unless he knows you're Erik Lehnsherr's husband, and you don't want that."

"No," Charles hurriedly agreed, "I don't want that. Do you think a business proposition might interest him, though?"

Azazel considered. "He has been looking for capital to build a casino in Dubai," The Russian man said slowly. 

"Splendid!" Charles said. "How much of an investment would catch his eye?"

Azazel considered. "This is not really my department; I do delivery and transport," he admitted. "But I think twenty million would pique his interest."

"Not a problem," Charles said breezily, pretending he had access to billions that he, in fact, would probably not be getting at this point. "Will you contact him and arrange a meeting?"

Azazel looked at Charles for a moment and then inclined his head in the affirmative. "I hope you know what you are doing, brother," he said softly before clapping a massive hand on Charles' shoulder. 

Charles went to the garden and to make a phone call, hoping for privacy, only to discover Raven lounging there, doing something on her phone. He started to go back inside but she stopped him. "Charles, this is weird, but Cain sent me a message on Facebook - well, he really wants to talk to you. He sent his phone number." Raven looked up at Charles. "Do you want it?" 

Charles couldn't imagine what Cain wanted to say to him. Was he going to gloat? "Tell him he can talk to my lawyer," Charles snapped, and walked back inside. He went into his bedroom to make his phone call. The call went to voicemail, so Charles left a message.

_"Hi Mr. Quested, this is Charles Xavier. I hope you remember me. I am not calling about my marriage, but rather because I know of a notorious international criminal, a man named Sebastian Shaw, who is currently in the country illegally, and for the safety of my family I would like to talk to someone about how he could be apprehended. Please call me back as soon as possible."_

**

Charles and Erik stood outside the restaurant, peering in the windows. Erik's excitement about this imminent meeting had been replaced by an ugly anxiety. He tried not to think about how he would feel if Pietro hated him, and told himself it didn't matter because it wouldn’t change what he planned to do. He wasn’t he believed himself.

"Let's just go inside," Charles urged Erik, tugging at his hand. Erik shook his head, scanning what he could see of the restaurant patrons sitting inside.

"Take a picture, it lasts longer," said a young male voice immediately behind them. Both men whirled to see a teenage boy standing behind them in a silver-painted leather jacket, holding a skateboard. _He has my cheekbones,_ Erik thought. He felt a little light-headed.

"Pietro," Charles said with a smile. Erik felt Charles look at him. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

"Yeah," said the teenager. "Well--I prefer Peter." He had certain energy about him, an inability to stand still, shifting his weight constantly, fiddling with the skateboard in his hand. “Nice shiner,” he said, about the bruise on Erik’s cheek from Azazel’s punch. He jerked his head towards Charles. “Did he do that to you?”

“God, no,” Charles choked.

Pietro shrugged. “He probably deserved it.”

Erik knew it was past time for him to speak, but his mouth felt like sandpaper and he could not think of a thing to say that didn't seem inappropropriately casual or, alternatively, too emotionally loaded. When the moment had stretched on long enough to become uncomfortable, Charles smoothly intervened.

"I'm Charles Xavier," Charles finally said, proffering his hand to Pietro. He nodded towards Erik. "This--is Erik Lehnsherr."

"Does he talk?" Pietro asked Charles after a moment.

"It's nice to meet--see you, Pietro," Erik finally managed to say. 

The young man looked at Erik for a moment and for a moment his flippant persona was replaced by a steely glare. " _Peter._ "

"Of course, I'm--I'm sorry," Erik said, haltingly.

"Sorry for what?" Peter asked, attempting to flip his skateboard and land on it. "For calling me the wrong name, or for leaving me when I was a baby?"

Charles sucked in his breath. The question hurt Erik, but it hurt in a way that Erik agreed with. "I deserve that," he said quietly.

"It's ok, I got over it," Peter said quickly, a lie Erik did not believe for a second, as the tennager’s nonchalant facade fell firmly back into place. "Actually, it's kinda nice to see that you're even more nervous than I am." Erik felt mortified as he realized the truth of that statement. _Just who is the adult here, anyway?_ he thought.

Peter attempted to flip his board again, unsuccessfully, then looked back and forth between Charles and Erik. "So are you guys a couple?"

Charles glanced at Erik who gave the barest nod. "Yes. We're married." _for the time being._

"Cool, cool," Peter said, and again he looked around, his eyes darting everywhere, full of nervous energy. "How long have you been together?"

Erik didn't like where this line of questioning would lead. It was too much to try and explain right now. Charles looked at him with a question in his eyes and Erik gave a very tiny shake of his head, hoping Charles would understand and not plunge ahead with a romantic story. Charles seemed to understand, as he changed the subject.

"I think we'd rather know more about you," Charles said easily. 

"What do you do?" Erik forced himself to say. He knew it was an awkward question but at least it was open-ended. 

Peter frowned at him slightly. "What do I do? I'm a seventeen year old kid. I go to school, run track, shoplift, play video games, girls...you know, normal stuff."

Charles frowned. "Did you say--"

"You know, my grandparents don't like you very much," Peter interrupted, facing Erik. 

"I did know that," Erik responded quietly. Peter's words made him feel that he had been punched in the gut. He desperately wanted to say more, but he was determined not to make excuses for his past actions. Yet nothing else was coming to mind.

"Is that because you're gay?" Peter asked guilelessly. 

Erik opened his mouth to deny that--and as he thought about it more, he realized there was more than a little truth to it. "That's--a part of it. It's a long story."

"Okay," said Pietro. "Can you give me the Reader's Digest version?"

Erik glanced at Charles, not understanding the reference, but knowing Peter wanted the fast version of the story. "I'd rather not go into it at this very moment."

Peter's eyes got a little bigger. "That bad, huh?" He watched Erik closely as Erik clenched his jaw. "Wow, I thought they were exaggerating."

Erik shot a desperate look at Charles. "Shall we go inside?" Charles said brightly.

Something in the restaurant behind Charles and Erik seemed to catch Peter’s eye. "There's something I should probably tell you," he said, as he watched a dark-haired woman coming out of the restaurant. Erik frowned and tried to place where he had met her before... 

"Hello, Erik," the woman said, in German-accented English.

Erik felt faint as recognition washed over him. "Magda?" He whispered.


	9. NIne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward encounter at the restaurant, a secret meeting, miscommunication, and sexytimes.

Charles found himself steadying Erik by the arm for the second time that day as the blood drained from Erik's face and he swayed slightly.

"Swooning over me, my love?" Magda asked Erik, wearing an unpleasant smile.

Charles disliked her immediately. 

"Magda! - how - what? You're not dead," Erik stuttered. He put his hand to his forehead. "I need to sit down." 

Charles saw the nearest seating was inside the restaurant in the waiting area, so he brought Erik inside and sat him down. Erik looked at Charles with an expression of shock and misery. "I didn't know," he whispered.

"I know," Charles said, sitting next to him and squeezing his hand. Pietro and Magda joined them in the waiting area, which was now uncomfortably full. Pietro looked wide-eyed and anxious and Magda just looked - unpleasant. 

Erik had fortunately recovered some color. "Why did you let me believe you were dead?" He said finally, looking up at his former wife. _Not former,_ Charles realized with a shock. Of course they wouldn't have divorced if he’d thought her dead. 

Charles moaned and put his head in his hands.

Erik looked at Charles in alarm as Magda responded. "You wanted me dead," she said flatly. "You were so quick to believe, didn't ask for any proof, never tried to get custody of Pietro."

"Your parents screamed obscenities at me!" Erik said angrily, rising and facing Magda. “I was never going to get custody, not with--" he broke off, and continued, quieter, as they had started to get some looks from people dining nearby. “Can you imagine how I felt, when they had raised me nearly as their own son?"

"No worse than you deserved!" She snapped back, and then lowered her voice to a hiss. "You abandoned me and Pietro to do drugs and fuck pony boys. What did you think my parents would say to you?"

"La la la, I'm not hearing this," Peter said, bringing his hands up to his ears. 

Charles phone rang. "I should get that," he muttered, desperately grateful for the excuse to get out of the tight waiting area. He squeezed between Erik and Magda to get to the relatively refreshing air of the Manhattan street. 

"I'm gonna...also answer Charles' phone," Peter told his parents and darted outside. 

Charles and Peter shared a look when they got outside. "Bringing her wasn't my idea," Peter said with his hands up in a mannerism that was so like Erik that Charles felt a pang.

Charles smiled and nodded and held up his phone to indicate to Peter that it really was ringing, then walked a few feet away to answer. 

"Hello, Hank," he said. "You have excellent timing."

"Uh, well, I'm glad I reached you in a good mood," Hank said. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."

"Actually, it would be hard for my night to get worse," Charles sighed. 

"Ah. Well, sorry to add to it, but this is rather urgent. You have been officially notified by the INS that your marriage has been determined to be fraud--"

"Well, since his bloody wife is still alive, I think that's a bit of a moot point," Charles said intensely but under his breath. He turned to make sure he was far enough from Peter to be heard. 

"His --wife?" Hank's voice seemed puzzled. "Oh--that's not good."

"No," Charles agreed, swallowing back the lump in his throat. "No, it's not good."

"I--wasn't finished though," Hank said timidly. "The INS has determined that you two were conspiring to willfully deceive the government, which is a criminal offense. However, they've agreed not to press criminal charges, only if Erik will leave the country in the next seven days."

Charles thought he might have cried if hadn't been in Peter's line of sight. He mumbled an acknowledgement to Hank as he disconnected the call and just stood, pinching the bridge of his nose. Peter was trying to peek inside the restaurant at his parents and Charles heard him say to Charles, "I'm gonna go back inside now." 

Charles nodded. "I--might go," he said, making brief eye contact with Peter, trying not to give too much away on his face. Peter looked confused, but nodded.

 _What now,_ Charles thought, as his thoughts swirled in his head. Could he move to Germany to be with Erik? He could hardly afford it, not without the inheritance he had definitely lost now, not to mention Raven and Pietro were here. And although he knew it was unreasonable to do so, he felt annoyed at Erik that Magda was still alive. _He_ should _have done more to verify her death,_ he thought, irritated. 

His phone rang again, a number Charles didn't recognize. "This is Charles Xavier," he answered.

"Charles, this is Janos Quested from Immigration and Naturalization Services," he heard through the phone. 

"Oh. Hello. My lawyer already gave me the bad news," he said flatly.

"Ahh--I see. Um, Mr. Xavier, I'm not actually calling in regard to that, but in regard to the voicemail you left for me a few hours ago."

"Oh!" Charles stood up straighter.

"It's actually quite fortuitous that you called me about this, as I happen to be acquainted with the FBI agent who is in charge of pursuing individuals like Sebastian Shaw. I am here with Agent John Levine of the FBI, and he would really like to meet with you right away, ah, right now, if possible. They are extremely interested in apprehending Sebastian Shaw."

"Ahh..." Charles craned his neck to see if he could see inside the window to the restaurant without being seen. He thought about going inside to tell Erik he had to run an errand, but that would invite questions he didn't want to answer - he knew without asking that Erik would be very much against the idea of the FBI using Charles as bait to trap Shaw. _Also,_ he thought, _I can't stomach the idea of being in the presence of that woman again._ At least he now had an excuse to leave.

"Just give me the address, I'll be there," Charles said to Quested. 

He sent a hurried text to Erik as he walked quickly to the nearest Subway station. He felt more than a little guilty abandoning Erik in that situation but since he also felt a little annoyed at Erik for the whole Magda situation, he decided he would deal with the fallout later. 

**

Peter went back inside the restaurant because his curiosity overcame his discomfort. He was glad Erik had brought Charles, as he seemed to be the sanest person in this whole weird family. He carefully approached the area where his parents were sitting, and was glad that the yelling had stopped. Erik spotted him first, and stood.

"Peter," he said, looking very concerned. "I'm very sorry that you had to see that."

Peter shrugged. "No biggie." He actually felt a little traumatized but felt it was important to downplay any negativity in the situation. He looked over at his mother. "Mom said she was going to leave before dinner," he said pointedly, his face angled towards Erik but his eyes looking at Magda. 

Magda sighed theatrically and stood up. "Peter, be careful," she said brushing by Erik dismissively. "Don't forget everything you've heard about him just because he talks pretty."

Peter snorted. "Obviously you weren't here for our earlier conversation."

"Good-bye, Magda," Erik said, clearly putting some effort into controlling himself, holding the door for her. She stalked out with a glare.

"God, she's horrible," Erik muttered under his breath and then looked at Peter, stricken. "Oh--I'm sorry, I shouldn't say that around you."

Peter shrugged. "She's not too bad, actually, unless she's talking about you."

Erik stared for a moment, then suddenly barked a laugh. "You know, I can't think of how this meeting could have gone much worse," he said.

"Well," said Peter, "I think the worst of it is over. Probably."

Erik craned his neck to see if he could see Charles out the window. "Do you see Charles?"

Peter was in a better position to see where Charles had been standing. "I think he--left?" he said doubtfully. 

They both went outside to check. Charles was not in sight. Erik frowned. "That's not like him," he said. He pulled out his phone, but there was nothing from Charles. 

"Ahh--" Erik turned to face Peter with a bemused expression. "Well, looks like it's just me and you for dinner," he said to his son, and gestured inside.

**

Quested met Charles at the FBI station door since it was after hours. "Mr. Xavier," he greeted Charles. 

"Oh, I didn't know you'd be here," Charles said, mildly surprised.

"This way, please." Quested led Charles down a gray hall and then hesitated outside a white door. He inhaled as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out.

Charles frowned. "Are you all right, Mr. Quested?"

"Mr. Xavier, I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but my superior overruled my recommendation regarding your marriage," the INS officer finally said. He lowered his voice. "I believed you and your husband to be genuinely in love. Unfortunately, I did not have the final say in the matter." He cleared his throat. "I just wanted you to know that," he said, as the white door opened.

"Thank you, Mr. Quested," Charles said softly. Small comfort, but it was nice of the man to say it. 

Charles was greeted by the blandly handsome agent who had opened the white door. "Charles Xavier? I'm Agent John Levine. Please come in."

**

When Erik and Peter finally got a table at the restaurant, Erik pressed a $10 bill into the host's hand and said, "Sorry about all the yelling earlier."

"Not a problem at all, sir," the girl said with a smile, making his $10 disappear. 

"That was classy," Peter said as they sat down.

"What was?" Erik looked up from his menu briefly at Peter.

"What you did, there, with the hostess, and you thought I didn't see. That's good," Peter said, nodding his approval and picking up his own menu. 

"I suspect that your mother has painted a very ugly picture of me to you," Erik said, fiddling with his silverware. Touching metal always had a calming effect on him.

"Yeah," Peter confirmed. "But we've covered that. Do you want me to tell you about yourself? In your own words?"

Erik smiled, despite himself. "You are something else, you know that?"

"I'm a pain in the ass," Peter said promptly, earning a chuckle from Erik. 

"Shall I tell you..." he looked at Peter thoughtfully, trying to think of something that didn’t reinforce any of the poison Magda had been feeding him about Erik. "I'll tell you how I came to love Charles."

Peter wrinkled his nose. "Will you skip the sex?"

Erik laughed loudly at that. "Yes."

Erik proceeded to tell Peter the true story of his meeting and arrangement with Charles, skipping only the parts that went into detail about his past or things that got "too sexy" - although he did feel it was important to the story that Charles wanted a threesome with a woman on his thirtieth birthday, so he included that detail with some reservations ( _Peter is very nearly an adult_ he told himself) --and he also skipped mentioning Azazel. Peter was rapt nearly the entire time, until Erik concluded with their meeting with Hank, and the bad news Charles and Erik had received from him. 

"But - wait - so that's it? You have to leave the county and he doesn't get his inheritance? What kind of a story is that?" 

"A true one," Erik said. He'd had a glass of wine with dinner and it had made him feel considerably more comfortable talking, but now that his story had ended Erik was very aware of the cold reality of the situation, and he abruptly remembered why he had even come to this country.

He lowered his voice. "What I didn't include in that story was why I came to the United States in the first place: to find you, and give your birthright, a valuable antique item, that was - has been, I mean, in my - our - family for generations." Erik paused to consider, and thought out loud. "It changes things that you are living with your mother. Maybe I should get a safety deposit box for you until you are eighteen..."

"What 'item' are you talking about?" Peter asked in exasperation. 

"Oh! A gold menorah," Erik said, as quietly as possible in the busy restaurant. 

Peter’s eyebrows went up. "I'm Jewish?"

Just then, Erik's phone made a noise and he saw a text from Charles. He was relieved until he read it and then he felt sick. 

"What's going on? Is Charles okay?" Peter said anxiously.

"Charles is--" Erik swallowed the lump in his throat. "--Fine. He's fine. I need to get going though. Umm--I'll be in touch about that - item, okay?"

Peter nodded. "Hang in there, Dad. I have a good feeling about you two kids."

Erik smiled weakly at his son. 

**

Charles got home before Erik, which he took as a sign that dinner went well - unless Erik or Magda had gotten themselves arrested. His talk with Agent Levine had been surprisingly brief and to the point - when (or if) Shaw suggested a meeting time, Charles was to let the FBI know immediately by texting different alpha numeric codes for time and date meeting information. There was even a code based on a map grid to inform the FBI of the meeting location. Agent Levine gave him a booklet with all the codes, explaining that a hard copy was more secure than a digital copy. 

Charles thought all of that was a bit of overkill, as he was sure he wasn't being watched by Shaw, but he agreed to go along with the precautions. 

Charles heard back from Shaw much sooner than he expected to. It was shortly after he got home that Azazel popped his head into Charles' study and said quietly, keeping his head out the door to look for Raven or Erik, "If you still want to meet with Shaw, he can do so at 6pm tomorrow."

Charles forced himself to remain calm. "That sounds fine," he said. "Where?"

Azazel gave him the address of a warehouse in the Bronx. "I'll be there," he said, and glanced up at Azazel. "Thank you."

Azazel said, "I'm not sure thank you is appropriate. But if you could put in a good word for me with Raven..."

Charles chuckled. "I will."

After Azazel had gone, Charles pulled out the booklet and sent a series of carefully worded text messages to tell the FBI the time and location of the meeting with Shaw. When he was done, he carefully hid the booklet. 

**

Charles thought more about Magda and how he had left Erik at the restaurant with that horrible woman as he showered that night. The hot water washed away his unreasonable annoyance at Erik, but he still had plenty left over for Magda. Charles thought about how he pleased he was that Peter seemed to like him, and marvelled that Peter was so accepting of same-sex marriage. _If my mother had that mindframe, I wouldn't even be in this mess,_ he thought, realizing a moment later that if his mother hadn't put that stupid married-by-thirty clause in the will, he probably never would have met Erik, and certainly wouldn't have married him before getting to know him, at least. 

"I think that actually is ironic," he said out loud, realizing for once there was no one around to contradict him. 

He read for a while, becoming increasingly anxious that Erik was neither home nor had called. When he realized it was after 1:00am he had just decided to text Erik when he heard the motorcycle pull up outside with a slight screech. He went to greet Erik at the door but Erik walked in sullenly, barely looking at him. 

"Oh dear," Charles said, following Erik down the hall. "I guess it didn't go very well?"

"How do you think it went?" Erik snapped. He smelled of whiskey.

Charles eyes opened wide. "Erik, were you _driving drunk_?

“Hardly, I only had a couple,” he said flatly, continuing to his room. “What do you care, anyway?”

"What-- of course I care!" Charles said angrily. "Do you know how dangerous that is? What if you got in an--" he stopped talking when he saw what Erik was doing. 

Erik had reached his room and started pulling clothes out of drawers, tossing on the bed. "Guess I'll get started now," he grunted, getting a suitcase out of the closet.

Charles closed his eyes and put his hands out in front of him. "Wait. Wait. Please, Erik, there's something I'm missing here," he said, starting to feel desperate. He embraced Erik from behind the taller man, holding as tightly as he could, wanting to calm Erik's mind. 

Erik abruptly turned around and started kissing him passionately, ruthlessly, far differently than his usual measured perfection. This was - hungry, desperate. 

"Erik," Charles tried to say between kisses. He was pushed backwards on the bed as Erik started fumbling with his belt. Charles felt his resolve to converse weakening as Erik started pulling at his clothes in a desperate, animal manner that took Charles' breath away. Erik started biting at his neck and Charles moaned despite himself. 

As Erik continued roughly disrobing Charles, Charles noticed that Erik was speaking, between kisses, under his breath: "Make you love me," was one phrase he definitely heard and "make you miss this," was another. 

Charles fought his instincts and grasped both of Erik's wrists tightly. "Erik, no," he said firmly but quietly. Erik looked at Charles' face with an expression of pure misery and made a final urgent attempt at kissing Charles' mouth. Although it pained Charles to do it, he turned his head away, and then slowly turned his head back to look at Erik. 

Erik had his eyes squeezed shut and a few tears were leaking out the sides. Charles pulled him on to the bed so they were lying next to each other, kicking off most of the clothes Erik had put on the bed in the process. 

"Is it because I didn't tell you I loved you?" Erik suddenly gasped. "I do. I just wanted to tell you at the right time, a special time. So it would be meaningful." 

Charles was still horribly confused, but had to choke out a laugh. “Romantic,” he said, and continued, "I know you love me, silly." His own eyes started to well up. "Can you please tell me why you are so upset with me?"

"Your text," Erik said, as if that explained everything. "I got your text.” He closes his eyes. “I could tell you were mad about Magda, but I didn’t think you wanted me gone.”

Charles instantly felt terrible for being such a coward and sending a text when he should have at least called, but still Erik’s words were shocking. “Gone? What? I--it was insensitive of me to tell you what Hank said in an SMS message. And--I left you with that horrible woman. I really am sorry about that. But Erik, surely you don't think you would lose me? I thought--well, maybe it wasn't said, but I thought you knew, that--I _want_ to be with you? Whether or not we are able to make that happen..." Charles trailed off. 

"But--" Erik's forehead creased and he pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed Charles the text.

**_hank called. you have a week to move out of us. I need to run errand we'll talk later_ **

Charles read the text and felt still puzzled until his mind made the connection. "Oh my god. Erik, I didn't mean for you to move out of 'us' as in me and you. I meant move out of the US. The United States."

Erik's face went blank for a moment and then he said, "Oh god." He closed his eyes. "So you do love me," he said, in an exhale.

"Erik, you ridiculous man, of course I do," Charles said, and he couldn't have said if he felt more exasperated or more loving in that moment. 

His eyes still closed, Erik choked a little on bitter laughter. "Although, I still have only a week to get out."

Charles thought about his meeting with Agent Levine earlier. With some helpful nudges from Quested, Agent Levine had offered to not only drop the fraud charges against Erik, but also to grant him permanent residency in the United Stated, if the FBI was able to apprehend Shaw with Charles' help. Levine had described the way the FBI would surround the building on all sides, leaving no chance of escape, and after discussing the plan for a while, Charles felt that the plan would be safe enough to proceed. 

But Charles couldn't tell Erik that now, as he was certain Erik would try to prevent him from getting involved regardless of how safe Charles felt he would be. He thought a subject change was in order. 

"Why don't we make the most of the time we have," he murmured to Erik, kissing his neck. 

Erik didn't have to be told twice. He rolled on top of Charles and deftly removed Charles' pajama bottoms and all of his own clothes while he kissed Charles, running his tongue along Charles' lips the way he knew Charles liked. He frowned at Charles' white T-shirt. "Do you like this shirt?" he asked between kisses.

"I have twenty just like it," Charles panted, not seeing the relevance until Erik shifted his weight and literally ripped the T-shirt from Charles' torso. "Oh my," Charles gasped as Erik now had his entire torso to kiss and lick and bite. 

"I love make-up sex," Charles said with a breathless laugh. Erik went to nibble at his soft throat, around his Adam's apple, enjoying the whimpers Charles made. 

"Is make-up sex different?" Erik asked, running his fingers through Charles' hair and experimentally fisting his hand there. He was rewarded with a low groan. 

"Oh, yes, it's _that_ ," Charles moaned, writhing in delight. 

Erik pulled on one of Charles nipples, a little harder than he usually would. "And maybe that?"

Charles just nodded wordlessly, his eyes going slightly glassy. His hands clutched at Erik's back, reaching down to squeeze his ass, and reaching up to rake his fingers across Erik's pectoral muscles. 

Erik was doing everything a little bit rougher than usual, and Charles was loudly moaning his approval. "Play me like one of your French violins," He giggled, paraphrasing a quote from the movie Titanic. 

Erik dragged his teeth along Charles' nipple. "I think you mean Italian violins," he said.

"Are we going to argue now?" Charles said, almost unable to finish the last word because Erik had swirled his tongue around the head of Charles' penis. 

"No," said Erik, "because you're not going to be able to talk while I am fucking your face." He bodily lifted Charles and re-positioned him so he was lying on his back and his head was hanging off the edge of the bed while Erik stood on the side. He slowly brought his cock towards Charles' eager mouth and let him lick only the tip, at first, though Charles whined to be able to lick more. Erik slowly moved his cock closer so that Charles could have slightly better access and Charles made happy noises as he sucked on and swirled his tongue around the head of Erik's cock in his mouth. 

Erik didn't put his hands to waste, as in this position he had full access to some of the most tantalizing parts of Charles. He pinched and pulled on Charles' nipples, even smacked his face lightly and experimentally put a hand across his throat - not cutting off any air, but giving the sensation of it. 

Erik delighted at how positively Charles' body responded to everything he did. As he started to gently thrust his penis in and out of Charles' mouth, he gave Charles plenty of time to find what angle of his head was most conducive to that endeavor. He reached for Charles' penis and started stroking that as he fucked Charles' face a little deeper, loving the way the angle of Charles' head made him able to get his cock much farther into Charles' mouth than he could usually manage. 

Charles wanted more cock in his mouth, and at this wonderful angle, he thought he could take it. "More," he gasped between thrusts, and wrapped his arms around Erik, grasping his ass and using that to push more of him towards Charles' face. 

Erik took Charles hands and held them down at his sides. "I decide how much cock you get," he murmured, but gave him a little more, enough that Charles gurgled in delight. 

Erik decided it was time for something else. "I have another surprise for you, my sweet Stradivarius," he whispered, as he again lifted Charles and turned him one hundred and eighty degrees, still on his back, so that his ass was where his mouth had just been. He went and pulled something out of a drawer, out of Charles' eyesight. After a moment, he placed that something at the entrance of Charles' ass and resumed stroking Charles' cock with his free hand. He gently pushed the something in and Charles gasped at the sensation of cold smoothness, gradually widening as it went in. 

Erik very slowly fucked this in and out of Charles' ass, watching his face, listening to his whimpers as direct results of every movement Erik made, playing him like an instrument. Right when it seemed the object had gotten too wide, it tapered immediately. After slowly ramping up the fucking, Erik sunk the object in just over the hump to the tapered spot, earning a throaty low moan from his brunette, blue-eyed lover. 

"How does that feel?" Erik asked, running his hands over Charles’ torso and penis.

"What the hell is it?" Charles gasped.

Erik chuckled. "I made it. I made it to fit you, to stretch you without fingers. I made sure it was smooth everywhere so it wouldn't hurt you." 

"It's bloody amazing," Charles said. Erik changed the angle of it to hit a spot he was beginning to know very well and rocked the metal object against that spot until Charles was keening. 

"I'd really like to fuck you now," Erik whispered. "I'm going to take this out." He gently removed the metal sex toy he'd made by rocking it out and setting it aside.

He looked down at Charles and appreciated his beauty, such red lips, ginger stubble, blue eyes pleading with Erik. "Do you want me to fuck you?" He asked. Charles nodded, licking his lips. Erik rolled a condom on, and positioned his cock and slowly entered Charles' ass. Even with his being stretched, it was a tight fit, and Erik groaned and forced himself to hold back as Charles writhed and whimpered and acclimated. He loved watching Charles' face as he took Erik's cock; it contorted through such incredible, exquisite expressions. And his noises--Erik fucked a little harder, a little deeper, and Charles' noise level and pitch increased correspondingly. He reach out to grasp Charles’ cock and let his instincts take over, responding to Charles' cues, both subtle and obvious. 

And then it was time to speed up, to go up one dynamic level, and turn up the volume as both men got closer to their climax. Erik thought if he played this one right - just maybe...he felt his own climax coming and he stroked Charles a little harder in anticipation, fucking nearly with abandon now, as Charles was practically screaming "Don't stop, don't stop--" They came together in a musical and sexual climax, one moment of sweet shuddering ecstasy that they shared, simultaneous and rare. Making love to Charles made him feel like a virtuoso who had found his perfect instrument. 

Erik flopped on the bed next to Charles in a sweaty heap.

"You are _such_ a romantic," Charles panted with narrowed eyes and a wide grin, as if he could hear Erik's thoughts.

Erik, for once, didn't deny it. He just turned and kissed Charles' sex-reddened lips until the younger man pushed him away, laughing, claiming a lack of oxygen. They both crept naked across the hall to Charles' en suite bathroom and larger bed for cleaning and sleeping, respectively.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles meets Shaw, and the long road to a happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a character graphically describing the past sexual abuse of children. Attempted assault. Moderate violence. But there's fluff after, I promise!

Charles bolted upright in bed, far too early. Something had awakened him, but he wasn't sure what it was until he heard a faint buzzing from the nightstand - his cell phone, ringing. Charles picked up the phone and looked at the time - 6:30am, really? He almost decided not to answer it but thought it might be the FBI calling about the meeting with Shaw later that day, so he snuck into Erik's room across the hall and closed the door.

"Hello?" he said, in a subdued tone.

"Mr. Xavier?"

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the morning voice. "This is Charles Xavier."

"This is Max Eisenhardt with the FBI - I'm John Levine's assistant. We'd like to know if you can come to the rendezvous point early so we can prep you for what you will be doing today."

"You mean earlier than two o’clock?" he said, yawning. He'd thought four hours in advance was more than enough time, but he wasn't the professional.

"Yes. It's important." The man sounded urgent.

"Ah, yes, okay, I can do that," Charles said, thinking. He hadn't told Erik about any plans today, so changing them shouldn't be a problem. "What time?" 

"Well, the earlier, the better, so we'll be ready when Shaw arrives. Can you come now?"

" _Now_?" Charles looked at the time again. "I could be there in an hour; is that soon enough?"

"That will be fine, Mr. Xavier. Thank you." Eisenhardt disconnected the call. 

_Well, If I sneak out while Erik is still asleep, I won't have to make any excuses,_ Charles thought. 

No such luck. When he got back in his room, Erik was looking at him through sleepy eyelids. "Who was that?" he murmured. 

"Nobody," Charles whispered, admiring how breathtakingly gorgeous Erik looked in the morning: the stubble on his chin, his pronounced Adam's apple, and the white sheets a stark contrast to his dark auburn hair. "You could have been a model, you know."

"Slippery slope," Erik grunted, which made no sense to Charles. But he also hadn't distracted Erik. "Nobody?" Erik said, suspiciously, seeming more awake now. 

Charles thought fast. He didn't want to lie, and he couldn't tell the truth. "Nothing I want you to know about," he said lightly. "It's a surprise."

That, apparently, was not the right thing to say to Erik. "I'm not really good with surprises," he said with a frown. Definitely awake. Damn.

Charles fought back his guilt as he realized he was going to have to sell this. He adopted a slightly scolding tone. "You, sir, had a birthday that I didn't get to celebrate with you. I intend to show you that you are not the only one in this relationship who can be romantic. I--Hey!" Charles exclaimed as his growling lover pulled him into bed and started covering his neck with kisses.

"This is all the romance I need," Erik said, cutting to the chase by wrapping his mouth around Charles' penis. 

Charles gasped and used every ounce of his self-control to gently extricate his genitalia from Erik's mouth. "Do you know how hard it is--" he started.

"Yep, I've got a pretty good view," Erik interrupted, with a grin. 

Charles breathed out heavily and laughed, pulling Erik up for a deep kiss. "I've got to go for a while. But when I get back, we'll have all the time in the world--"

Charles stopped himself from completing the thought as Erik made eye contact with him. "We won't, though, will we?" Erik said, sadly. 

Charles grimaced for a moment, wanting to share with Erik the hope in his heart, but not able to, yet. With a final gentle kiss, he got dressed and left.

**

Charles arrived at the warehouse a little before 8:00am, feeling anxious that he was late. It was an ugly day, cold and raining. He didn't see any vehicles parked nearby, but he supposed that the FBI was pretty good at hiding them. He entered the large, dark warehouse. "Hello?" he said hesitantly into the space.

"Mr. Xavier?" It was the same voice from the phone that morning.

"Yes?" he turned in the direction of the sound, then intense pain blossomed in the side of his head and he lost consciousness.

**

When Charles came to, the first thing he noticed was that he was is a moving vehicle. The second thing he noticed was how much his head hurt and for some reason it was still very dark. He moaned involuntarily as the vehicle hit a small bump that spawned pain anew above his right ear. 

"I think he's awake," he heard a voice say, and he immediately held his breath. "Do you want me to hit him again?"

"No," said another voice, from a different direction, a slightly accented voice that struck Charles as familiar.

Charles realized the reason he couldn't see was because he was blindfolded. He didn't make any other noises as he tried desperately to comprehend what was happening. He was lying in a fairly uncomfortable position, on a hard rubbery surface, somewhat curled on his left side, with his hands tied behind him. He supposed that he was on the floor of a van or truck. His feet didn't feel tied, but he didn't want to risk moving them to find out.

Charles realized, logically, that it was Shaw or his men who had kidnapped him. He wondered how this happened, when in a flash of insight he realized, and he wanted to kick himself. Max Eisenhardt. That phone call. Why would an an FBI agent _call him on the phone_ with new instructions, after they had been so adamant about giving him the booklet with the codes for communication via text message? Any legitimate change in the plan would have been relayed in code in an SMS. 

So effectively _Shaw_ had asked Charles to come to the site early, far earlier than the FBI would be there, and he'd bought it. 

Some part of Charles' brain told him to gather all the information he could about his surroundings, and he tried breathing in through his nose to see if he could smell anything. Just the overwhelming smell of wet asphalt, of motor oil, and--blood? Charles realized this probably had to do with the pain above his ear, and hoped he didn't have any permanent damage. Although, he thought perhaps that was a moot point if his captors were only taking him to a more private place so they could kill him.

Charles started to feel panicked and he forced himself to calm his mind and think pleasant thoughts, like: Erik in bed that morning, Erik handing him the rings on the wedding day, the way Erik kissed him that same day for the first time...

The vehicle came to an inconsiderate stop, turned a few more corners, then stopped again. Charles bit the inside of his cheek to keep from vocalizing the pain that his head throbbed with every time the vehicle moved or stopped abruptly. He heard the unmistakable groaning and creaking of a garage door opening, then the vehicle moved again. It stopped and the motor turned off.

Charles heard a door slide open, and someone hauled him roughly to his feet. Charles blindly staggered in the director his captor was urging. He was turned a few times while walking, then the man guiding him grunted, "Sit down." Charles went to sit on the ground but realized there was a chair in the way, so he sat on that. His feet were roughly tied to the chair after that and Charles wondered if he should be fighting back more. 

The blindfold, some kind of wrap-around cloth, was ripped off then and Charles cried out at the unexpected pain on the right side of his head as the cloth had apparently at least partially dried into the blood on the side of his head where he had been hit. The pain of his pupils contracting in the sudden light was secondary. 

He was sitting in the middle of a room that was otherwise empty of furniture, a room with dirty white walls and splotchy brown carpet. There were no windows, and only one door. A smirking, rat-faced man stood directly in front of him and another man, a pale blond man, stood impassively in the corner of the room to the left of the door, holding what appeared to be the blindfold that Charles had been wearing.

"Mr. Xavier," the man directly in front of him said. "What a pleasure to meet you. My name is Sebastian Shaw."

"I know who you are," Charles said, his voice cracking unexpectedly from disuse. For the first time, wondered how long he had been unconscious. He looked up at Shaw and decided to voice his honest first impression. "I thought you'd be bigger."

Shaw looked momentarily startled, then offended, then amused. "Oh, I can see why he likes you," he said, chuckling. "I wasn't sure Azazel's plan would work, but I see it now. Oh yes, your Erik will come for you."

Charles tried not to let his shock and betrayal show on his face. "I don't know who you're talking about," he tried to say calmly, but heard the tremor in his own voice. 

"Mr. Xavier," Shaw said, almost gleefully, pulling up a chair in front of Charles, backwards, and sitting astride it. "Do you think me so naive that I wouldn't do so much as a google search on someone who wants invest twenty million dollars with me?" 

Charles said nothing, not breaking eye contact with Shaw, though internally he was screaming.

"Thanks to the wonders of the internet, I found out in literally a matter of minutes that you recently married Erik Lehnsherr, a man who stole something very valuable from me recently."  
He grinned unexpectedly. "Azazel has a unique sense of humor, but he is good at his job."

"Erik only took back what you stole from him," Charles said angrily. 

Shaw raised his eyebrows. "Oh, he told you all about it, did he?" He slowly started to smirk. "I bet he didn't," he said softly, not breaking eye contact with Charles. 

Shaw looked over his shoulder at the blond man standing in the corner and jerked his head in a clear indication that he wanted the man to exit the room. "Leave the blindfold," he said, turning back to face Charles. The man dropped the blindfold and left, wearing an ugly smirk.

"I'm going to be candid with you, Charles," Shaw said. "Because it's a rare treat for me." He smiled, an unpleasant, sneering smile. "Erik was one of my _boys_. I say ‘one of’ because I like to have three or four at a time, so I always know I can get a tight fuck while the others are recovering." 

Shaw watched Charles shudder and smiled bigger. "I actually didn't fuck Erik that much," he said thoughtfully. "He was a screamer, and that's fun for about five minutes, but he would never shut up."

Charles felt like he might be sick. He clenched his jaw and tried not to hear Shaw's words. 

"I found that was a good way to motivate him, though, you see," Shaw continued. He shifted in his chair and to Charles' utter disgust he saw the man had an erection. "He would suck cock like a little rock star if he thought the alternative was being fucked in the ass." 

Charles eyes prickled, and he turned his head to try and hide the fact that he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. His soul cried out for all that his lover had gone through at this man's hands. 

He realized that Shaw hadn't spoken for a while and Charles turned his head back to see that Shaw was looking at him with a slightly glassy, distant expression. 

"You're pretty," Shaw said slowly, looking at Charles' mouth. 

A tear slipped down Charles' cheek.

Shaw stood and loosened his belt buckle, coming around the chair, towards Charles. "You're a little old for me," he admitted, "But I want to be able to tell Erik if you are a screamer like him, or not. You see, he'll know if I'm lying." 

Charles felt his gorge rising in his throat. 

"And, you have such a pretty mouth," Shaw continued, roughly grabbing Charles's chin in his hand and obscenely squeezing his lips together. "Can't wait to fuck that," he grunted, reaching into his pants with his free hand, while with the hand holding Charles' chin he plunged his index finger into Charles' partly open mouth.

Charles felt his stomach convulse and he vomited spectacularly, covering Shaw's hand and his own chest and lap.

Shaw stepped back immediately, revulsion spreading across his face. "That's disgusting," he said, shaking off his hand.

"You're disgusting," Charles spat at him, breathing heavily. 

"Well, that really killed the mood," Shaw said after a few seconds. He zipped his pants up in annoyance and buckled his belt again. "I'll have someone hose you off and we'll try this again later." He left the room.

Charles sat in the room, covered in his own vomit, desperately trying to find a way to keep hoping that Erik and Raven would stay safe. He realized that his own safety was a lost cause.  
He tried to think his happy thoughts, about Erik feeding him grapes under the willow tree (but Shaw was standing behind the tree), Erik giving him an engraved metal double-helix (but Shaw took it away from him), and finally Charles sobbed that even the refuge of his mind had been tainted by this monster of a man who had destroyed the life of the man Charles loved and who was now going to destroy it all over again.

**

Erik woke for good around nine in the morning and felt restless from the moment he woke up. The day was ugly and raining and it bothered him that he didn't know where Charles was, and his few texts had gone unreturned. By one in the afternoon he was going out of his mind, and he wasn't even sure why. Grilling Raven did not reveal anything, and Azazel had disappeared somewhere. He needed Charles, wanted him near, wanted to bury his face in Charles' hair and breathe in the scent of him. Erik couldn't think of any surprise that would be worth giving up one of their precious few days left together, and he just paced on the front porch under the narrow overhang, his phone in his hand, envisioning car accidents on slick streets, muggings, Charles falling on the train tracks...

Around two o’clock Erik decided despite the rain to go to their place under the willow tree on the hill (it had been _his_ place until he brought Charles there; after that point, it was irretrievably _their_ place). He'd resisted until that point because he thought Charles might be setting up some kind of surprise there, but his patience with that idea had worn thin, and it seemed unlikely given the weather.

Just as Erik was getting on his motorcycle, Azazel pulled up in a black van. Erik waved him down. "Hey," he greeted Azazel through the window. "Do you know anything about the surprise thing Charles is doing for me? He's been gone a long time."

"I do," said Azazel. 

Erik felt a huge relief. "Oh, fantastic. Where is he?"

Azazel hesitated. "It's hard to explain," he said. "Let’s talk after I check on Raven." He glanced at Erik's bike. "You should come inside," he said.

Erik felt impatient, but forced a smile. It looked like Azazel was in on the surprise, and probably was going to try and keep Erik distracted. But he'd admitted knowing _something_ , so maybe Erik could get more information about it out of him. Erik reluctantly shut off the bike and followed Azazel inside. He wondered idly if Azazel had always driven that van, or if it had something to do with Charles' surprise.

**

About twenty minutes after Azazel had arrived back at the mansion, Erik paced in the garden during a break in the downpour, smoking a cigarette, glancing towards the door, waiting for Azazel to be done talking to Raven. Finally Azazel came to speak with him. 

"What do you know?" Erik blurted out. He was beyond acting cool about it. 

"Charles has been working on something in the attic," Azazel said. "I think you should come see it." 

Erik knew Charles wasn't in the attic, but he thought he would humor Azazel - and maybe there was some kind of clue there. He followed Azazel up to the one habitable part of the attic, a small room on the fourth floor with wall-length mirrors and a ballet barre in it - a room that had once been used a dance studio, sometime in the mansion's past. 

Azazel shut the door and turned to Erik, reaching out to catch his wrist and snapping it into a handcuff before Erik could comprehend what was happening. Then he snapped the other cuff onto the ballet barre, effectively preventing Erik from leaving the room.

"Azazel, what the fuck?" Erik exclaimed. Horror struck him as he realized what was happening. "I thought..." he gulped, and his mind cast about desperately for something to cling to. "I thought we were family," he said. Before Azazel had a chance to respond, Erik's rage grew and he threw himself as close to Azazel as he could reach. "Charles!" he gasped suddenly. "What have you done with him?"

Azazel stepped back just out of Erik's reach. "I regret having to do this," he said in his rumbling, resonant voice. "I have a lot to say and we don't have much time."

Erik felt like a madman. "WHERE THE FUCK IS CHARLES?" He screamed, thrashing against the cuff. 

"Please be quiet and listen," Azazel said. "We’re up here so Raven doesn’t hear you. I don't want to have to gag you."

Erik immediately stilled. He hated, absolutely hated being gagged. _Probably Shaw told him that,_ he thought and felt lightheaded. He sat down, his hand above his head and dangling from the barre.

"Shaw has Charles," Azazel said without preamble. "I believe he intends to hurt Charles, if not kill him. I know where he is, but Shaw is expecting you. You won't be able to rescue Charles without help. More than just me."

Even though Erik felt very deeply that what Azazel was saying was true, he wasn’t sure of Azazel’s role in it. "Why should I believe you?" Erik asked. "You handcuffed me! Has this been your plan all along? Maybe Charles is fine, out somewhere working on a surprise for me. And you are just trying to deliver me to Shaw."

Azazel's response was to pull a phone out of his pocket. Charles' phone. "You sent him three text messages today, they are right here," he said. "I can hold it up for you to see."

"I recognize the phone," Erik said, his hope dashed. 

"Charles was working with the FBI," Azazel said and Erik snapped his head up, startled. "How did he--" he shook his head in wonderment. "But--what happened? How did Shaw get him if he was working with the FBI?"

Azazel showed the first trace of emotion all day at that point, when he sighed. "Shaw set a trap that has worked before: he had one of his men call Charles early on the day of--that would have been this morning--posing as an assistant to John Levine, the FBI agent to whom Shaw's case has been assigned." Azazel looked away from Erik. "It is a devious ploy. They deliberately call very early in the morning to try and catch the mark while his wits are not fully about him. If the mark is confused or alarmed that the FBI appears to be calling, denies a meeting has been arranged, Shaw can proceed in good faith--well, better faith--but Charles followed the script exactly by agreeing to come to the rendezvous point as soon as possible." Azazel turned to Erik. "Are you following this?"

Erik was following Azazel, but just barely. He remembered the early morning phone call. He supposed he should be upset that Charles lied to him, but on some level he understood, and he so desperately needed Charles back that he would have forgiven anything. 

Some small question danced around his mind before it became a question he could articulate."If you introduced Charles to Shaw, how does he not suspect you of being involved? How does he think you know Charles?”

Now Azazel looked genuinely miserable. "I made him believe it was a big joke, my way of getting _you_ to him all along. He found out you two were married immediately; I had to play along. He doesn't know about Raven--if he could connect me to Charles any way but through you, I would be as good as dead. He sent me here to tell you where Charles is, and they might be on the move again if I don't return soon."

Erik was convinced. "We need to go now," he said.

Azazel looked at him steadily. "We need to call the FBI."

Erik shook his head. "No. Even if I knew how to get ahold of the right person fast enough, the FBI already messed this up by not preparing Charles for a phone call like that. And they are not going to work with me; they want to deport me!"

Azazel knelt down next to Erik, and spoke to him on the same seated level, with unwavering eye contact. "Shaw will kill Charles in front of you, and probably worse. As long as he has Charles, he has the upper hand. I'm done with him, but I won't kill him or anyone else. I want to be with Raven and raise my child as a free man; not from prison, not living always on the run."

Erik's instinct battled with his intellect. He tried to think through the situation logically.

"It's going to be a hostage situation if the FBI goes in," he said slowly. "And Shaw is expecting me. Azazel - it has to be you. You have to get Charles out before the FBI can go in."

Azazel stared at Erik for a moment, his mind working, and finally inclined his head. "This will have to be timed perfectly," he said. "The FBI will not want me to go in before them, but you're right; that is the only way. They must arrive immediately after I get Charles out, and no sooner."

Erik swallowed. "Okay. So how do we call the FBI?"

Charles' phone made a noise just then. It was a text message that made no sense to Erik:

_**pass the tree, no bird. 64826937** _

"That's FBI code," Azazel said. "Charles must have a key somewhere."

Erik looked at the phone in his hand and hesitated. He dialed the number the text had come from. The phone picked up, but no voice spoke. 

"This is Erik Lehnsherr," Erik said, his heart pounding. "Charles Xavier has been kidnapped by Sebastian Shaw."

"Hold on," a voice said. There was rustling and then a breathless voice came to the phone. "This is Agent John Levine. Where is Mr. Xavier?"

"Due to your ineptitude, he has been captured by one of the worst criminals on the planet," Erik snarled into the phone. "If you really want to catch Sebastian Shaw, a man who has apparently eluded you on multiple occasions, you are going to have to be a little unorthodox."

Silence. Erik immediately regretted his tone and held his breath. It was over a minute before the voice on the other side spoke again, in a clipped, professional tone:

"What did you have in mind, Mr. Lehnsherr?"

**

Erik didn't consider himself much of a negotiator, but he did get Agent Levine to agree to recommend ("I can't promise anything") permanent residency status for Erik and Azazel upon the successful capture of Sebastian Shaw and to observe from a distance but not interfere with Azazel retrieving Charles from the house in which he was being kept in Patterson, New York. _He must be desperate to capture Shaw,_ Erik thought, and wondered how many other crimes Shaw had committed, besides raping probably dozens of children--it seemed unlikely that the FBI would know about that, since many on Shaw's personal staff did not. 

**

Azazel stopped the van several blocks away from the house. "Stay here," He said to Erik. He hoped Erik would obey but thought he probably wouldn't. 

Azazel walked towards the house. He was not used to feeling nervous. He went in the front door. Shaw appeared to be just ending a phone call when Azazel walked in. 

"Azazel!" Shaw said happily. "Did you give our mutual friend the message?"

"I did," said Azazel. "He should be here soon."

Shaw frowned. "He didn't come with you?"

Azazel had thought about this lie carefully, hoping it was believable. "He was very angry and violent," Azazel said. "I left him handcuffed, but with a saw nearby. It won't be long."

Shaw seemed impressed. "Way to take initiative, Azazel!" he said, thumping the large Russian man on the arm. "I love a man with ambition."

No response was required, so Azazel said nothing.

Shaw appeared to snap back into business mode. "Azazel, take Frank with you to get the sedan. We're going to dump the van as soon as we've taken care of our friends and head directly to the airport." He meant the small, private airport where they'd bribed a local pilot, Azazel knew. He also meant that they would dump the bodies with the van. Azazel felt an unpleasant twisting in his stomach as he realized he would be expected to leave on this errand with Frank before having an opportunity to get Charles out. Not to mention, Erik was in the van they would need to take to the sedan.

As Shaw walked out of the room, dialing a number on his phone, Azazel went to the door of the room where Charles was.

"What are you doing?" Frank asked suspiciously. Frank was a pale blond man who had worked for Shaw for years and was almost as cruel as his boss--but fortunately not as intelligent, and twice as lazy.

"Did you take him to the bathroom?" Azazel asked Frank pointedly.

Frank grunted. "Shaw didn't say to," he said. "Sometimes he wants 'em to stew in their own mess."

Azazel hated what he was about to say but he knew it would be effective. "Not the pretty ones."

Frank hesitated. 

Shaw stuck his head back in the room. "Oh, Frank, I almost forgot--Take Mr. Xavier in the back and hose him off before you go. He puked everywhere. I'm going to try, ah, interrogating him again while you two are gone."

Shaw withdrew again as Frank was reluctantly pausing his game of Candy Crush and getting up. Azazel said, "I got it, Frank." 

Frank eyed Azazel for a moment and then snorted. "You really _are_ angling for a promotion. Fine, vomit-guy is your problem."

Azazel opened the door of the room carefully. Besides the expected vomit, Azazel saw that the right side of Charles' head was shiny and his hair on that side was matted with dried blood. Azazel's stomach turned, more out of sympathy than the smell, and from the death glare that Charles was giving him. 

Azazel knelt and untied the ropes at Charles' feet. Cutting would be faster, but if someone walked in it would be suspect. He kept his pocket knife handy, though. 

"Why, Azazel?" Charles asked loudly. "What about Ra--"

Azazel snapped his head up and looked at Charles intensely and gave one sharp shake of his head. They didn't know about Raven and he didn't want them to.

Charles swallowed his words, seeming to understand. Surely he didn't want Raven in danger either, even if he wasn't sure yet of Azazel's intentions. Azazel pulled Charles upright and led him out the door in the house's living room area.

"Oh, man, he reeks," Frank complained.

Azazel didn't like Frank.

Azazel took Charles out the side door, and instead of going into the back yard, he turned them toward the front yard and they started walking quickly down the street just as the rain started pouring down. Azazel didn't want to stop and free Charles' hands yet as he felt extremely exposed, still a few hundred feet from the van where Erik was waiting. When they were three house-lengths away, a cacophony of sirens and swat teams and loudspeakers exploded behind them as the FBI swooped in on the house containing Shaw and his remaining henchman. 

Charles gaped at the action with his head over his shoulder, but Azazel relentlessly pulled him toward the van that Erik had just leapt out of. "Charles!" Erik exclaimed joyfully, running towards him.

Charles whipped his head around towards the sound and nearly lost his balance. "Erik?"

Azazel cut the ropes binding Charles' wrists just in time for him to bring up his hands to stop Erik from embracing him. "I'm--disgusting," he choked, his blue eyes big and sad, as diluted blood trails trickled onto his shoulder. 

A look of desperate confusion crossed Erik's face before he understood. He took off his shirt and used it to wipe as much of the mess off Charles as he could, using the rain to wet the shirt, wiping his face and mouth, standing there half-naked as the cold wind and rain raised gooseflesh on his abdomen. "I'm sorry I don't have water for you to drink," Erik managed to say, as both men started sobbing with relief and the joy of being together again. "But I have to kiss you now." And he did.

**

Fortunately, the local police had bottled water, and even gave Erik a T-shirt to wear emblazoned with the text, "Patterson Police Picnic 2010." They called an ambulance to take Charles to the hospital for his head injury, at Erik's insistence and over Charles' protestations. 

Azazel went with them to the hospital, but excused himself to take a call right after Charles had his brain scanned for injury. Erik sat by Charles' hospital bed while they waited for the results of the cat scan. "I'm sorry," Charles said, stroking Erik's hand. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you what I was planning about Shaw."

Erik had opened his mouth to forgive him when Charles' phone in Erik's pocket rang. Erik handed it to Charles. "Raven," Charles exclaimed happily then went immediately silent. His blues eyes got large with concern as he shot a desperate look to Erik. "Raven, I'm so sorry, I can't right now; I'm in the hospital myself."

Charles winced and held his phone away from his ear as the volume and intensity of Raven's speech increased over the phone.

Erik impatiently grabbed the phone and hit the speaker button.

"Dammit, Charles, I can't do this by myself!" Raven's distorted voice sounded almost maniacal even through the tiny speaker. "What happened to you? Where are you? Where's Erik? Where's--"

Charles tried to speak, but Raven wasn't listening. Erik heard a male voice in the background, and abruptly she quieted down, almost like someone flipped a switch. 

"It's okay, Azazel's here," she said, suddenly much calmer. 

Erik and Charles looked at each other. Azazel must have made amazing time to Westchester; Erik would have sworn he'd just been here. 

"He says he knows where you are and he will take me there. Charles, I'm having a baby!"

**

It was after dawn the next day when Azazel drove the five of them home in a sedan he had somehow acquired. ("it was parked at the hospital," was his only explanation, and Charles never saw it again after that day)

Charles had been diagnosed with a mild concussion that would give him very bad headaches for a few days, but it was easy for him to forget about the pain in his head while Baby Kurt sat between Raven and Charles in the back. They both took turns cooing over his adorably tiny feet and hands and face and every other adorably tiny part of him. 

"I know this isn't a good time, but since we're all here: we have to move out of the mansion," Charles said. "The estate has reverted back to Cain, and I don't think we can afford to rent it back from him."

It was a pathetic attempt at a joke. It fell flat.

Raven looked at Charles with a concerned, almost panicky look. "I just got the baby's room perfect!" Charles just looked at her, sadly. "So we have to move? But--can we still all live together?" It was clear that she was not ready to leave Charles, even if she was willing to give Azazel a chance. 

"Of course we can," Charles said, patting her hand reassuringly. 

Erik and and Azazel in the front seats exchanged glances. 

**

The next afternoon, when Erik and Charles had awoken from a long and much-needed sleep, as Erik spooned Charles, Charles felt he needed to tell Erik about what happened with Shaw. 

“He told me,” Charles said. “What he did to you. I can’t bear to repeat it, but he told me what I think you couldn’t. And you were right--it was worse than I imagined.”

Erik was silent, playing with Charles’ hair, remembering how he’d much he’d wanted to breathe in this very hair the day before. Thinking how Charles was almost taken from him. 

“Did he hurt you,” Erik said quietly.

Clearly he had, as Charles had the concussion to prove it, but that wasn’t what Erik meant and they both knew it. 

“He--” Charles swallowed. “He put his finger in my mouth. He was about to--do--more.”

Erik tried very hard not to react to the anger swelling inside him. Charles didn’t speak for a while. “What stopped him?” Erik prompted, as gently as he could.

Charles still didn’t answer, curling up tighter into almost a fetal position.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Charles,” Erik said, aching that his sweet Charles was experiencing this feeling that he knew so well, too well.

“I threw up on him,” Charles finally said, his voice small.

Erik breathed in. He smiled. He kissed the back of Charles’s head. “That’s wonderful,” he said.

“It is?” Confused, disbelieving. 

“Yes. Yes, you brilliant, wonderful man. Shaw can’t stand vomit. That’s probably the only thing that you could have done that would have stopped him.”

Charles tried to reject the words. “It wasn’t me, it was my body.”

“Well--” Erik rolled Charles over to face him, kissing the tears on the latter’s cheeks. “You have a brilliant, wonderful body. My favorite.” 

Charles finally looked Erik in the eye, looking for--disgust? revulsion? Not seeing anything but warmth and love, he finally, slowly smiled at Erik and gave him a long, slow kiss. 

They made love then, slowly, gently, lots of mouths and kissing and tongues, and no teeth or toys. After, Charles almost said, ‘I’m sorry you know that about Shaw,’ but thought better of it.

**

Considering the financial situation of the two couples - none of them were employed and only Erik and Azazel had any money saved up at all - the best housing for which they could get approved in the highly competitive greater New York City market was a small two-bedroom house on Staten Island. But, it had a place to park Erik's motorcycle and a garage into which he could move his metal-working equipment, and a fenced yard that would be good for the toddler they would eventually have, so they congratulated themselves on the find as they each secretly dreaded having to share such a small space.

Agent Levine’s recommendation of permanent residency status for Erik and Azazel was accepted by the INS with the help of Janos Quested, so they were both legally allowed to work. Azazel got a job working private security for a nightclub in Manhattan, and Erik easily found a job at a local car repair place on Staten Island. Charles did some substitute teaching, but that work was sparse and mostly he did housework and helped Raven with childcare duties. They were all a little too on-top of each other to be comfortable--not to mention, lovemaking was less of a private affair than ever before--but they made do.

One day they got a call from Janos, who had actually become a pretty good friend, telling them that Sebastian Shaw had been extradited to Germany to face a litany of charges, the ultimate result of which was that he would not ever live outside of prison walls again. His assets were seized by the German government and it was even suggested to Erik that he might be able to get some money in restitution, which he flatly refused. “Give it to other orphans,” was all he would say about it.

Erik and Charles got to see Peter frequently, as they would meet for dinner, see him run track, or otherwise socialize with him at least once a week. They grew close quickly; despite his mother or perhaps because of her, Peter was a considerate, observant and funny young man, who seemed to have given up his penchant for petty larceny. He very much wanted to move out of his mother's house, and Erik knew it, and he in turn desperately wished that he could offer for Peter to move-in with him but since they didn't have the room (and Magda would have pitched a fit), he never brought it up. They celebrated his 18th birthday by seeing a special concert in Madison Square Garden: a reunion concert of the bank Pink Floyd playing the entirely of their album Dark Side of The Moon.

**

Six months after Kurt was born, Hank called Erik to let him know his divorce from Magda had been finalized, and Plan Propose to Charles went into action. 

Charles showed up at the address Erik had specified, at the specified time, not as mystified by the request as he pretended to be. Charles wasn't sure exactly what Erik had planned, but he had a pretty good idea of what the point was. And somehow the wedding ring that Erik had made for him had gone missing...Charles secretly hoped that he still got to keep that ring, because it meant a lot to him.

It was an Italian restaurant. Charles was led by the maître d' to a small banquet room in the back--

Where Raven and Peter and Azazel and Moira and Angel and Kurt and Janos Quested --essentially everyone he cared about in the world--yelled "Surprise!" and right in the middle of them all was the love of his life, Erik Lehnsherr, grinning at him, clean-shaven and looking devastatingly handsome in a tuxedo which Charles knew he didn't own. Charles clapped his hand to his mouth in delight. 

The room hushed and the lights dimmed so that the only illumination was the candles in the centerpieces of the few tables in the banquet room. Erik cleared his throat and started to speak. 

"Charles, the first time we got married, I knew you were someone special--but I didn't realize how special until we went to hell and back together. I didn't realize how broken I was until I met you; I didn't think this kind of love was possible for me. Even knowing everything about me you love me unreservedly, and you force me to acknowledge the best aspects of myself even when I can't see them. And even though you constantly accuse me of being romantic (Charles giggled), and even though you have no idea what irony is (Charles gasped in mock-offense), you are my best friend, my lover, and a worthy chess adversary." Titters and sighs from their friends and family filled the slight pause. 

Erik got down on one knee, and proffered to Charles the same ring that Charles always wore (to Charles' sweet relief). "Charles Xavier, my sweet Stradivarius--(Charles blushed furiously)--will you marry me--again?"

Charles was already crying. "Yes, of course," he got out, through tears, and had barely finished the words before he was pulling Erik to his feet and claiming his lips in a passionate kiss that made more than one onlooker blush. Their friends and family applauded and cheered and Peter yelled, "Get a room!"

Erik and Charles started laughing more than they were kissing. "I did, you know," Erik said softly to Charles, pressing their foreheads together. 

"Did what?" 

"I got us a room at the Hyatt for tonight," Erik murmured, pulling back just enough that he could see Charles' face in focus, looking at every aspect of it, his freckles, his red lips, and of course the blue eyes that had stolen his heart. "We could even pick up a girl if you want," Erik continued, teasing, one corner of his mouth beginning to lift.

Charles smirked at his fiance, with a wrinkled nose. "Stop it."

"A redhead, maybe?" Erik pressed, laughing when Charles pushed his face into Erik's chest and rubbed it vigorously from side to side: _no, no, no!_

Erik's tone changed. "Is this okay?" he whispered. "I didn't want to overdo it."

"It's perfect," said Charles. "Just--perfect."

They stood there swaying for a moment, almost appearing to slow-dance, savoring the moment before their friends would swoop in and congratulate them and buy them drinks. 

At that moment Hank walked in. "Oh, I missed it!" Hank said with dismay, seeing Charles and Erik swaying together. Charles disengaged from Erik finally and turned to Hank with a huge smile. "Hank! I'd wondered. So glad you could make it. Not that I knew about it, haha." 

"Uh, yes, sorry I'm late," said Hank. "I--actually was delayed because I got some news that affects you." 

Charles immediately switched gears and pulled Hank to the side. "Good news or bad news?"

"Well, a bit of both, actually."

Despite Charles' intention for the conversation with Hank to be a private one, the crowd was small enough that more than one person had noticed the conversation and had quieted to listen to it, and soon the whole room was quiet and listening to Hank. Hank looked at Charles anxiously. "Shall I continue?"

Charles looked around at the room and realized he had nothing to hide from the people there (except, perhaps, the origin of Erik's term of endearment for him). "Yes, please do."

Hank took a deep breath and looked down. "Cain Marko was killed in a car accident two days ago." Murmurs. Hearing about death was never good news, but...Hank raised his head and looked at Charles. "In his will--well--he left everything to you."

Charles felt confused for a moment. He knew his step-brother Cain didn't have any children, and he remembered at the same time Raven did that Cain had been trying to reach him a few months ago - Charles and Raven made eye contact across the room with matching dropped jaws. What had Cain wanted to say? Now they would never know. In that moment he felt as much guilt as he did gladness at having his fortune back when he realized that he'd turned his back on Cain when he was the only family Cain had had left. He swallowed. "I see what you mean by good and bad news," he said, only loud enough for himself to hear.

"Oh, and the estate includes the mansion, so you can move back there," Hank added as an afterthought. Oddly enough, this part of the news is what finally changed the shocked whispers into cheering. Azazel even smiled. 

"Yes!" said Peter, holding aloft a glass of champagne that Erik frowned at. "I'm moving to Westchester!"

"Only if you put down that champagne," Erik said sternly. "You're not twenty-one for another three years."

Peter looked sheepish and put down the champagne. "But I can move in, right?" he said, so desperately hopeful that Erik decided not to tease him about it as he had just opened his mouth to do. 

"Of course," he said. "There are only twelve or so spare bedrooms." He grinned at Peter and Peter grinned at him and Erik thought, _anytime before that I thought I was happy, I didn't know how wrong I was._ This _is happiness._

THE END 

 

PS - Azazel had to ask Raven to marry him seventeen times before she finally said yes.


End file.
